


You say I got a touch so good

by alexanger



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A Gross Affront to Fashion, Collars, Double Anal Penetration, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Restraints, Rimming, Sex Work, Slow Burn, Slow burrn more like, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, light pet play, whorephobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanger/pseuds/alexanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I adore the way you seem unsure when the world's so obviously yours.</p><p>Jefferson hires Burr for companionship. Burr refuses to get emotionally involved.</p><p>[thanks to my pal <a href="http://beansterpie.tumblr.com/">bean</a> for being my sounding board. ytb]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I play this game the best

Burr makes a habit of meeting with all his prospective clients before the first session. It’s safer that way; he scopes them out and if anything gives him a red flag, he sends an email saying he’s not comfortable providing service, and goes home. He can’t afford to take chances with his safety. He’s had too many friends wind up with bad clients.

He sits in a corner table in the coffee shop down the street from his client’s office. He’s been told to look out for a periwinkle suit; he himself mentioned he’d be wearing a red scarf, but the scarf sits in his messenger bag, and the rest of his outfit is unobtrusive - a charcoal overcoat, a grey button-down, black tie, black pants. Burr prefers to wait before revealing himself.

He’s been there maybe half an hour (preparation pays off - he always arrives early and waits, just in case) when a periwinkle suit walks in with a tall man inside of it. “Periwinkle” doesn’t really do that suit justice - it’s almost offensive.

Burr watches just long enough for the man to order coffee and settle at a table. He looks clean, well put together, and polite enough; there’s arrogance in the tilt of his head, but Burr figures you’d need a far-greater-than-average helping of self confidence to even contemplate wearing a suit like that. Besides that, he’s undeniably attractive; he has a well-groomed beard and full lips, an eager smile, and broad shoulders that really just shouldn’t be allowed. The photos he sent Burr did _not_ do him justice.

Burr pulls the scarf out of his bag and loops it around his neck, then stands and walks towards the table.

“Periwinkle suit,” he says by way of greeting.

Periwinkle suit looks up and grins. “Red scarf,” he replies, in a gravelly voice.

“So you must be Mr Jefferson. I’m Jamie,” Burr says, offering a hand.

“Call me Thomas. Get you a coffee?” he asks. And then, wonder of wonders - he _stands_ and pulls out Burr’s chair.

Burr isn’t prepared for that kind of respect. He’s glad that he has his game face on, calculatedly blank, smooth, unrufflable. “I’d love that.”

“Anything you like,” Jefferson says. It’s not a question.

“Mocha,” Burr says, and he finishes with a warm smile and a popped “thanks.”

When Thomas sits back down and sets the drink in front of Burr, he allows himself to examine his client in surreptitious glances. Nothing too over the top - he takes in the cleanliness of Jefferson’s nails, the well maintained facial hair, and the posture. There’s clear conceit in the way he holds himself but he’s not a slob, thank goodness.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jefferson says, and Burr allows himself a small eyebrow raise - not a display of disbelief, just enough of a show of engagement to entice Jefferson to keep talking, although he doesn’t seem to need much encouragement on that front. “I’m not really sure of the whole process. I mean, we meet today, and then -?”

“If we agree to move forward, then I will see you in about a week,” Burr says.

“So this is definitely not what I was expecting,” Jefferson says.

“In what way?” Burr prompts.

“Uh, well, I thought it would be - a much faster process.”

“If you prefer, I can refer you to one of my colleagues with a less strenuous screening process,” Burr tells him. “I maintain this process in an effort to maintain confidentiality. If I have any doubts at all about my ability to keep my client’s information entirely secure I don’t proceed. You’ll forgive me, I hope, but that sometimes involves time and effort.”

It’s only a little bit of the truth, but it makes Jefferson relax visibly in his seat. “That’s fair,” Jefferson agrees. “I think I’d rather have the safety than haste.”

“Absolutely. Any other questions you have about my process?”

The next question isn’t an unfamiliar one but it definitely isn’t what Burr was expecting at this point. “How did you get into this line of work?”

Burr freezes his smile on his face as he replies, “I have friends in the industry. I got out of college and started in order to pay tuition, then realized I liked it and kept going.” Jefferson opens his mouth and Burr knows _what did you study in college?_ is the next question, so he rushes to cut him off with, “what exactly are your aims? One session, or ongoing?”

“I mean, I was hoping for ongoing, but I guess we’ll see. I can write you an email with, uh, the stuff I’m into, if that works for you?” There’s a hesitance there that’s almost sweet. Jefferson ducks a little. “I’m a bit uncomfortable with people overhearing -”

“It’s entirely natural to feel a bit embarrassed,” Burr responds, mechanical, well-practiced, feigning concern.

“Do you ever - feel embarrassed about it?” Jefferson asks. In any other context it might be a loaded question, but the look in his eyes is one of apprehension, grasping for something to connect with.

So, Burr does his job and gives him what he wants. “Yes, I do. There’s an attitude towards sex that’s very unhealthy, I think, in our society. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with this.”

“Aside from legality,” Jefferson interjects, the hint of a smile ghosting about the corners of his mouth.

“No, not even there,” Burr says. “You’re simply paying for my time and companionship. And if we, as two consenting adults, choose to do more - well, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there, Thomas?” He puts his hand on Jefferson’s and strokes gently with his thumb, and Jefferson’s face flashes extreme discomfort for just an instant before it segues into a contentment. He seems hungry for touch; he pushes his hand against Burr’s and shifts a little in his chair.

“I guess not. I can see why you came so highly recommended.”

“That’s high praise indeed. Tell me about yourself, Thomas,” Burr says warmly.

Evidently that was the right question, because Jefferson launches into a long and convoluted monologue. He mentions his job half a dozen times and defines it every time, in nearly the same way, to the point where Burr wonders if there’s anything in his life besides liquor licensing, you know, application services for businesses, and restaurants, businesses, to get their liquor licenses, and handling all the runaround there, you know, and pushing that through, and making it manageable, for a decent price, considering the time it takes to do it all yourself if you aren’t familiar with the process (Burr thinks he’ll have that bizarre explanation stuck in his head for _days)._

Burr has a Listening Face that he uses with clients. He makes himself sweet and soft, wide eyes, raised eyebrows, slightly parted lips, chin tilted down a little. It makes him look young. He’s pushing thirty, but he takes good care of himself and it’s paid off.

He notices that as he breaks out the Listening Face, Jefferson becomes more verbose. The moment he sees a reaction with a new client it becomes a game. Burr can’t help but experiment, see how much he can draw in a new man without getting sexual. He keeps stroking his thumb along Jefferson’s hand, and when that fails to be distracting enough he traces his fingers up along to where Jefferson’s wrist peeks out of the sleeve of his shirt. Each motion up his arm makes Jefferson shift a little. Burr almost regrets his one-week rule - almost. He imagines the desperation.

Hook them, keep them coming back.

“Anyway, I dabbled in law a bit, took a couple of horticulture classes, and then wound up starting my own business. I had the capital and the know-how, as well as the interest, so why not?” Thomas is saying.

“How long ago did you start your company?” Burr asks.

“Oh, well - it feels like yesterday, but it’s been about ten years? Speaking of which, I should get back to the office. I have a client coming in who - well, I have people who can do the work just fine, but he _insists_ upon dealing with me. Which is fine. He always brings a good bottle of wine when we meet,” Thomas says. “It’s been a pleasure, Jamie.”

Jefferson offers his hand and Burr shakes it warmly. “Likewise, Thomas.”

“Can I offer you a ride anywhere?” Jefferson asks.

“No, thank you, I have my way home. Kind of you to offer, though.” Burr stands to leave, and Jefferson walks ahead of him, opening the door for Burr to exit. More disarming niceness.

“I look forward to hearing from you about moving forward, whatever the answer is,” is Jefferson’s last statement.

“I’ll let you know as soon as possible,” Burr reassures him.

He is very conscious of the way Jefferson’s eyes follow him, and he can’t help but put a little extra swing in his hips.

Line and sinker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos feed my hungry children. come chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	2. I know how to make it good for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr's first session with Jefferson.

_Jamie:_

_As per our discussion here is a short list of things that interest me. If you want me to expand on any of these just ask. Also not all of this is entirely tested - just intriguing. Let’s experiment!_

  1. _Talking.  I like it. A lot._



 

 

Burr gets home an hour or so after Theo usually gets home from school. She’s sitting on the living room floor, placidly colouring in a dinosaur colouring book, assisted by a large bearded man who holds fistfuls of markers for her perusal.

“Hey, honey,” Burr says as he drops his messenger bag on the front hall table.

“Hey dad,” Theo says without looking up.

“I think the ‘honey’ was meant for me,” says the bearded man. “Hello, heart’s dearest. How was your meeting?”

“Fine, thank you, Liam my love.” Burr blows a kiss to the man in question.

“Was he rich?” Theo asks, entirely too absorbed in her colouring to even look up.

“Probably. Rich enough to offer to pay me for the consultation. How was school?”

“Good. I had chicken nuggets for lunch. We have to do a project about families, does Uncle Liam count?”

“Uncle Liam absolutely does count,” Burr says.

“Even if he isn’t really my uncle?”

Liam picks up Theodosia and rubs her head mock-angrily. “Who says I’m not really your uncle?” he asks, as Theo shrieks with laughter and kicks in his lap. “Whoever puts up with your nonsense gets to be uncle. That’s a law. I asked the president.”

“I also asked the president,” Burr agrees.

Theo ponders this, batting Liam’s hands away from her head. “I don’t think you can just ask the president things. You’d definitely have to talk to someone else first,” she says doubtfully.

“Maybe I’m just important enough to have a direct line,” Liam says.

“No, I don’t think so,” Theo replies. Burr laughs as Liam pouts, his face crumpling in utter devastation.

“I’m wounded,” Liam whispers soulfully.

“Are you whole enough to watch Theo on Saturday?” Burr asks, settling himself on the couch. “I’m going to go ahead with this client and that’s the evening that works best for us.”

“You got it, handsome.”

“Dad?” Theo asks, traces of uncertainty in her voice. “My teacher said for our project that we have to talk about our parents’ jobs and when I told her that you go and have dinner with rich people she said that’s not a real job.”

“Tell her I get paid to give people companionship, and leave it at that,” Burr says, tensing a little.

“Okay.” Theo placidly returns to her colouring, and Liam gives Burr a Look.

“Saturday, then,” he says, filling the silence. “Usual plan, Aaron?”

“Usual plan,” Burr agrees. “Staying home for dinner?”

“Ugh, if I _have_ to,” Liam says, looking at his hand, which Theo has stolen and begun to colour.

 

Burr has a routine on nights he does in-calls. He showers, carefully soaping every inch of himself, exfoliating the stubborn rough patches on his elbows and knees, and rubbing himself down with moisturizer. He’s found that coconut smells feminine enough to be alluring but not so feminine that it annoys the painfully homophobic gay men he sometimes has the displeasure of entertaining.

He doesn’t shave anything but his face, but he makes sure that his body hair is well-kempt and nicely groomed. There’s some trimming to be done on his groin and underarms, and he makes sure his face is entirely devoid of any stubble.

Then there’s makeup - not a ton, but he contours under his cheekbones and adds mascara to his eyes. He finds it makes him look sweet and a little hungry. He likes to show the hunger; it make him alluring and keeps his clients coming back. There’s a balance, though. Too much and he looks desperate - it’s unattractive in a professional; too little, and he doesn’t get the effect he wants.

Theo is busy watching a movie with Liam when he leaves. He kisses the top of her head and Liam, dependable as always, holds up his cell phone.

“It’s on loud,” Liam says.

“Good. Love you, Theo,” Burr says as he leaves.

“Love you too,” Theo says absently, utterly absorbed in Frozen.

Taxi to the client’s home, as usual. Burr spends the ride doing deep breathing. He needs to be calm and collected when he walks up to the door and his nerves have a nasty habit of leaping out at him when he’s on the way to a session with a new client.

Burr was prepared for Jefferson to be rich, but he wasn’t expecting the size of the house that he rolls up to. He goes through the steps of paying the driver and walking up to the house like he’s in a dream. It’s absolutely ridiculous - indulgent - it’s a beautiful townhouse, double the size of any reasonable townhouse, with a patio in front and what looks like three balconies. It’s entirely possible that he bought two houses right next to each other and knocked the walls between them down.

He texts Liam before he knocks on the door. It’s nothing long - just a note of the address and his arrival time.

Liam texts back immediately. _Got it. Text me in two hours. Knock him dead._

So Burr knocks.

Almost immediately the door opens. Jefferson looks, if possible, even more ludicrous than he did the week before - he’s wearing plaid mauve pants and a solid heather button-down. The first two buttons are open but there’s a tie around his neck (also plaid mauve - absolutely disgusting) and his hair is pulled back in a ponytail. His beard is a bit longer than the last time Burr saw him. It isn’t unpleasant; it’s a little rough, but Jefferson manages to make that look suave.

“Jamie,” Jefferson says. He grins, and his grin is broad and leonine, although it seems to falter a little, just for an instant. “Come in.”

“You have a lovely home,” Burr tells him. He waits for Jefferson to turn and lead him inside, and while his back is turned Burr shoots off another text: _Just got inside. Text you in two hours._

 _Got it,_ is the response. Bless that man.

Jefferson, unsurprisingly, is talking. He points at the kitchen, complete with a wine cooler larger than the fridge, and then at the dining room, with a second (and thankfully smaller) wine cooler. The home is open plan, and the dining room leads into the living room, which has a bar and, unsurprisingly, yet another wine cooler, although this one is the size of a mini fridge and seems half empty.

“I don’t do a ton of entertaining, but when I do, I like to do it right,” Jefferson says.

“Well, you’re entertaining me now,” Burr says.

They pause by the stairs. Jefferson is quiet for a moment, floundering, and then he asks, “do I take you upstairs? Or, uh, what’s the protocol here?”

Burr takes his hand. It’s a small touch, relatively innocent, but Jefferson jumps before leaning into it. “Think of this as a date,” Burr says. “You have me here for two hours, and we can do anything you want, within reason. If you want to go right upstairs, we can do that. If you’d rather sit for a while and chat, we can do that instead. Either way, you’re getting lucky at the end. I’m here to entertain you.”

Jefferson smiles. “I’m not sure how - far I want to go the first time. I hope that isn’t weird.”

“Not at all. That’s actually not uncommon. Do you want to start slow?” Burr asks him. “I can give you a massage and we can go from there.”

“Sure,” Jefferson agrees. He seems relieved. As he leads Burr upstairs, he keeps hold on his hand. It’s almost endearing. Burr can’t fathom why a man living alone needs three floors, but he doesn’t complain; it’s expansive, it’s roomy, and there’s no one sharing the space to ask any awkward questions.

“My bedroom,” Jefferson says finally. He allows Burr to lead the way into the room. “Uh, when do I - pay you?”

“Donation before service,” Burr tells him. Jefferson hands him an envelope, unmarked, and Burr adds, “would you mind showering?”

“Oh - yes, of course,” Jefferson says. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything? Glass of wine?”

“I prefer not to drink on the job, but maybe water?”

“Help yourself. Glasses are in the cupboard to the right of the fridge downstairs,” Jefferson tells him.

Burr goes back downstairs with his bag. As he walks, he counts the cash. Jefferson has overpaid him by $50; he tucks the cash down into the bottom of his bag, inside a spare pair of socks, but keeps the extra $50 aside just in case. He’ll bring it up with Jefferson after the session. He prides himself on his honesty.

He takes his time getting himself water and going back upstairs. When he gets back to the bedroom, Jefferson is still in the shower, so Burr takes the opportunity pull out two condoms and a bottle of massage oil and set them on the nightstand, where he’s thankful to see an alarm clock. He sets his bag on one of the armchairs in the corner of the room and pulls off his sweater, putting it on top of the bag. He’s pleased that he can see his belongings easily when he returns to sit on the bed.

Burr doesn’t notice the water shut off, but suddenly Jefferson is in the room, bare chested but wearing his abysmal mauve pants. “Hey,” Jefferson says.

“Hey,” Burr responds. He pats the bedspread beside him. “Join me?”

Jefferson seems awkward but pliant. His long body folds itself gracefully down as he flops on his stomach on the bed beside Burr. Burr buries one hand in Jefferson’s hair, damp and springy from the shower, and Jefferson pushes back against that hand, his lips parting a little. “Feels good,” he breathes.

“Good. Back rub?” Burr offers.

“Please.”

So Burr grabs the bottle of oil and straddles Jefferson’s hips. Jefferson’s waist draws in sharply; he has narrow hips and broad shoulders, and Burr, sitting on Jefferson’s ass, is uncomfortably aware of just how well built this man is.

He works oil between his palms, gets it warm, and then strokes long lines with the heels of his hands from waist to shoulders. Jefferson lets out an absolutely wanton moan and goes limp under Burr’s hands. It usually takes more than a single touch to undo a man so thoroughly, but Burr certainly isn’t complaining; he adds a little more pressure and works his palms against the hard muscle of Jefferson’s back, leaning into the touch just enough that he grinds against that perfectly sculpted ass with every stroke.

It isn’t long, though, before Jefferson speaks up. “I’m really not into having stuff done to my ass,” he says, almost apologetically. “Like, one specific thing, but other than that -”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Burr says. “Do you want me to move, or just stop grinding?”

Jefferson pauses, clicking his tongue absently against his teeth. “You can stay there,” he says finally.

“Alright. If you need me to move just speak up.” Burr stills his hips and presses his thumbs along the edges of Jefferson’s scapulas.

He was expecting silence, but he should have known that wasn’t going to be the case. It’s not long before Jefferson is chatting away.

“So what do people usually do their first time?”

“Usually I don’t take clients who’ve never done this before. Often I get in the door and we’re down to business,” Burr says. “I rarely just do this, but this is nice. Gives me a chance to get to know you, what you like, what you don’t like, what you love.”

“Do you want me to expand on my email?” Jefferson asks.

“Sure, if you want.”

“I mean, I didn’t get super into detail, but there’s a lot of things on there that I’ve never done. You know, obviously I’ve done things like kissing and - uh, oral -”

“Not everyone has, which is fine,” Burr interjects.

“I mean, yeah, but I have, so. I’m a grown ass man, I’ve _definitely_ kissed, and I’m … not really making myself sound convincing here, am I?”

Burr allows himself a small chuckle. “Far be it from me to judge.”

“Lay down,” Jefferson says breathlessly. There’s a beat before he adds an uncertain, “please.”

Burr rolls off of him and onto the bed, lying on his back. Jefferson places one hand on his hip and the other against his cheek and whispers, “may I?”

“Yes,” Burr says, and suddenly Jefferson’s lips are on his, far more gentle than he would have expected. They’re soft and searching; the fullness of them is indulgent. Burr can feel Jefferson’s beard against his chin, and he tastes mint and something floral on Jefferson’s lips, and suddenly Thomas is turning his head, and there’s a tongue stroking against his bottom lip.

Burr moans encouragingly and tangles his fingers in Jefferson’s hair. He focuses on each sensation as it washes over him - there’s that floral taste again, stronger, undeniably purple. He feels Jefferson’s hips press against his and there’s already hardness there, surprising in someone who seems so unsure.

Jefferson, surprisingly, breaks the kiss before going any further than gentle licks along Burr’s lips. “Well, if I haven’t done it before, I’ve certainly done it now,” he says.

Burr struggles for a moment to follow the thread of the conversation. “Done what?”

“Kissed.” And Jefferson laughs, a sharp sound that, coming from anyone else, would be intimidating.

“I can’t argue with that logic,” Burr agrees. “What was the other one you insisted you’ve done?”

Jefferson’s smile falters, just for an instant, then returns full-force. “Oral.”

“Wanna prove you’ve done that too?” Burr asks, stroking a hand down Jefferson’s side and resting it at the waistband of his hideous pants.

Jefferson nods, but he adds softly, “can I see you?”

Burr kisses Jefferson’s cheek and stands to undress. He waits until he’s sure he’s being watched, and then strips his t-shirt off, hips tilted back and shoulders held wide. He hears Jefferson draw a breath in.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” Jefferson says.

Burr smiles. “Surprise!”

He allows Jefferson to run his fingers over the paw prints tattooed on his hip. “You like dogs?” Jefferson asks.

“Cats,” Burr corrects. “You want the rest off?”

“Please.” Jefferson drops his hand and watches intently as Burr sheds his pants. Evidently wearing purple boxer briefs was the right choice, because Jefferson huffs in approval. Burr wonders if he even knows how bizarrely into purple he is. (It’s not all that likely; Jefferson doesn’t seem to be fantastically self-aware.)

“You’re pretty good looking,” Jefferson says. There’s a possibility that it’s meant to sound off-handed but there’s a tiny quiver in his voice. Burr decides to ignore it.

“Thank you.” He leans over and kisses Jefferson on the lips, drawing the kiss out until Jefferson leans into it and then pulling it back. “You ready to prove you’ve done oral before? I’m going to need your pants off for that, handsome.”

There’s no dignity about the way Jefferson shucks his pants and underwear, but Burr can’t really complain. He has hips like cut glass and thick, muscled thighs, and the cock standing impudently at full attention is - well, there’s no way around it. It’s beautiful.

Burr slinks back onto the bed, straddles Jefferson and settles his ass against that cock. There’s a thin layer of fabric between them, and he’s done this a million times, it shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him, but he shivers a little, knowing it’s _right there._

“Do you want me to get a condom?” Jefferson asks suddenly. “I just bought a box, I thought it might be, you know, the polite thing to do.”

“I use my own, but thank you,” Burr says, peppering kisses along his jawline and down his throat.

“I understand.” There’s a sharp jerk in Jefferson’s hips when Burr draws his teeth over the jut of his collarbone. It slides Jefferson’s cock against the cleft of Burr’s ass and he can’t help but moan softly.

“Are you going to leave any marks?”

“I don’t, as a matter of principle.” Burr draws his thumb over one of Jefferson’s nipples and is rewarded by another jerk of his hips.

“What if I were to ask you to?”

“I’d ask you to wait until the next session and consider carefully if that’s something you want,” Burr says. “Of course, if you’re adamant about wanting it _right now,_ I can do it anyway.”

Jefferson hums a little. “I just like mouths,” he says uncertainly.

In response, Burr teases down Jefferson’s chest with his tongue and sucks one of his nipples into his mouth. He can feel the power in the muscle against his lips; when he sucks just hard enough he feels that muscle twitch and flex, and before long Jefferson is grinding his hips into Burr and breathing heavily. He’s unbelievably hard. Burr treasures every moment like this, watching his clients come undone beneath him and knowing that it’s him, his body, his skill, bringing them to this point of desperation.

He loves to tease, so he flicks his tongue rapidly over the nipple he’s been working on before abandoning it for its twin. Jefferson whines in protest and the whine segues into a deep, satisfied groan as Burr starts to suck.

When Jefferson is panting underneath him, dishevelled and strung out, Burr grabs one of the condoms off the nightstand and starts kissing a line down his stomach. Jefferson seems to like teeth - Burr nips every so often, and each little bite is met with a hip jerk and a hiss or a whimper or a moan. He mutters, too - nothing terribly coherent, mostly just expletives underscored by an occasional, “yes, Jamie.”

He gives Jefferson’s cock a good thorough once over, disguising the exam by wrapping a hand around it and stroking the shaft slowly. Jefferson’s head is tilted back and the noises he’s making sound like they’re coming from inside his chest instead of out of his mouth. Satisfied, Burr tears the wrapper open and rolls the condom on, and even that contact seems to bring Jefferson absolutely ludicrous amounts of pleasure.

“Jamie, please suck me,” Jefferson breathes. Burr gently kisses the tip of his cock, then slides his lips over the head and sucks. He would have expected that to shut him up; he isn’t prepared for Jefferson’s talking to ramp up.

“Shit, Jamie, you suck that so well,” he breathes. “You’re so good at that, aren’t you? You like my cock?”

Burr hums emphatically.

“Just like that, shit, you’re so good. Is this good for you, Jamie? You wanna get off?” Jefferson glances down to where Burr is still wearing his shorts. “If you wanna get off you can, you can touch yourself - I want this to feel good for you -”

Burr doesn’t need any other encouragement. He fumbles his cock out and strokes it, angling his body so Jefferson can see. Jefferson sucks in a sharp breath.

“Shit, you’re pretty, aren’t you? Look at you jacking that cock. Does that feel good? Got my cock in your mouth and you’re rubbing yourself, fuck, I love seeing that, look how hard you are.”

Burr bobs his head on Jefferson’s cock, stroking in time with his lips, swallowing hard when he gets Jefferson deep enough to touch his throat. Jefferson’s breath speeds up and his talking intensifies between gasps.

“I want to see you come, shit, I love knowing you’re getting off, love seeing you touch yourself, look at you showing off, God damn, you’re beautiful. Show me, Jamie, show yourself off, you’re _so_ good, you’re getting me so _close!_ Fuck!”

Jefferson jerks beneath him and Burr speeds up with both hands. He can feel himself getting close too; he pulls off of Jefferson’s cock and gives him long, slow licks, bottom to top, determined to give him a show before he’s allowed to come.

If there’s one thing Burr’s good at - aside from getting other people to come, that is - it’s fixating on sensation and making himself come. He’s shown off so many times that it isn’t particularly difficult, but even after all this time there’s a thrill of using his own orgasm for another person’s pleasure. It’s exquisite, it’s an obliteration of the self in favour of pleasing another, and he lives for it.

Three things happen all at once. Burr comes hard, his load splattering against Jefferson’s leg; he sinks his mouth back down on Jefferson’s cock; and then Jefferson is coming, and Burr feels the semen against the condom, and - just like always - he wishes it was safe to taste it.

He sucks languidly through Jefferson’s orgasm. His own is forgotten, but he feels himself softening, so it must have been decent, at least. Jefferson’s hand strokes along the crown of his head, the roughness of his palm catching on the stubble there, and the gravelly voice is soft and sonorous as he whispers, “thank you, Jamie.”

Burr kisses the tip of Jefferson’s cock and eases the condom off. He goes to the bathroom to throw it away and returns with a facecloth, dampened with warm water, so he can clean off Jefferson’s leg, but he’s stopped at the last minute.

“Leave it,” Jefferson tells him. “I don’t mind.”

“At least let me clean this up,” Burr says, curling his fingers around Jefferson’s cock, soft now, surprisingly heavy. Jefferson nods and Burr takes his time wiping him clean. Jefferson is very loose after orgasm, it seems. He flops aimlessly about as Burr cleans him up.

There’s still plenty of time in the session. Burr leaves to hang the facecloth up in the bathroom, accompanied by a very disappointed groan from Jefferson, and he takes a moment to freshen up, check his appearance, make sure he’s not looking too worn out after his orgasm. When he gets back, Jefferson glances up at him, and his expression seems to be a bizarre mix between affection and apprehension.

“Do you cuddle?” Jefferson asks. Burr was not prepared for that question.

“Uh, yes,” Burr manages.

“Good. Come here.” Jefferson pats the bed beside him, then pauses and adds, “please.”

Burr expects spooning at the most. Maybe just an arm across his chest. He’s not prepared for Jefferson to wrap around him like a six foot tall koala with no fashion sense. He’s utterly cocooned in Jefferson’s arms, held tight against the broad chest. It’s soothing. He closes his eyes.

“We have almost an hour left,” Burr murmurs. Jefferson absentmindedly kisses the side of his neck.

“That’s a lot more time than I was expecting,” Jefferson says.

“It gives us a lot of room to do anything you didn’t get to but wanted to,” Burr says. “What would you like to do?”

Jefferson pauses. He seems nervous; his foot jiggles a little as he bites his lip. Finally, a look of determination crosses his face and he spits out firmly, “I’d like to watch Cutthroat Kitchen.”

Burr pauses, disbelieving, and then laughs. Jefferson, to his credit, just laughs too.

 

There’s just enough time to finish one full episode, and then Burr is up and getting dressed. Jefferson watches him idly from the bed.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says, as Burr pulls his sweater on.

“Very gentlemanly of you.”

Jefferson puts his pants back on to take Burr down to the door; Burr isn’t sure if he prefers that over a swinging dick, to be frank, but he seems to be getting used to the mauve plaid. At least it doesn’t burn his retinas anymore.

At the door, standing on the welcome mat, he tells Jefferson, “you overpaid me, by the way. By $50. I have that for you if you’d like it back.”

“I, uh, wasn’t actually expecting you to notice until you left.” Jefferson grins.

“I’m very quick on these kinds of things.” Burr pulls the $50 out of his bag and holds it out.

“No, keep it. I was certain I’d want to tip you so I just … went ahead and included that. Tipping is okay, right?”

“More than okay. I appreciate it,” Burr says, filling his voice with as much warmth as he can.

“In that case -” Jefferson reaches for his wallet, and Burr, suddenly uncomfortable, stops him.

“Wait until next time, Thomas. Thank you for a lovely evening.” He kisses Jefferson’s cheek. Jefferson puts his hands on Burr’s hips and leans in, pausing at the last second. Burr closes the distance and kisses his lips.

“I’ll email you about booking again,” Jefferson says. “Thank you, Jamie. You’re very sweet.”

Burr smiles and turns to leave. At the end of the block he reaches into his pocket for his phone and freezes.

His phone is there, but there’s something else.

He pulls out another $50.

Motherfucker.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for every comment and kudos you leave, i will eat 50 hamburgers. come chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	3. Who let a little bit of doubt slip in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr is confident, he’s ready, he’s bright and brilliant and prepared for anything Thomas Jefferson throws at him.

  1. _Feeling like a priority, feeling like I’m the most important person in the room, is a huge thing for me. I guess I can be a bit of a show off._



 

Burr finds Theo asleep on the couch, leaning against Liam, when he gets home.

“No bedtime tonight?” Burr raises his eyebrows.

“She was feeling anxious about school, so we turned on Finding Nemo. I figured she’d conk out watching it and she did,” Liam says. “How’d it go?”

“Good. He’s not a bad guy.” Burr checks his phone. “And he’s just emailed asking if he can book every Saturday for the next month.”

“Damn, boy. Already got yourself a fan.” Liam looks amused.

“Well, let’s hope he stays this nice. Can you tuck Theo in?”

Liam picks Theo up, something Burr sometimes struggles to do now that she’s in middle school, and carries her to her bedroom. Burr settles on the couch and scans Jefferson’s email again. It’s a bizarre mix of overly formal and painfully shy; he follows up “it would give me great pleasure if you would agree to the proposed schedule” with a schoolboyish “if that’s alright with you?”

Burr types out a quick, concise response in the affirmative. That done, he puts Jefferson’s appointments in his calendar, and then turns off his work phone for the night.

 

They build a flow together. Burr shows up at 7 PM on Saturday nights, and Jefferson takes him through the kitchen for a drink - Burr mentioned one night offhandedly that he likes sparkling juice, so Jefferson stocks cans of it now, seemingly aware that Burr needs reassurance that all of his drinks are sealed and sterile - and then upstairs.

Burr always massages Jefferson before they do anything else. The man winds up with new knots, somehow, every week, and Burr takes great pleasure in hunting them down and working them out. The feeling of Jefferson, all hard edges and lines, melting under his fingers is far too appealing to pass up.

The sex isn’t always what Burr would call incredible, but he loves the way Jefferson’s face looks when the buildup releases. There’s something hopelessly endearing about seeing him go limp and pliant and suddenly completely relaxed, not a hint of doubt or tension in his face. And Jefferson is surprisingly considerate - the swagger he saw in that first meeting seems to have transformed into confidence and care. He clearly takes pleasure in Burr’s climax, and after that first session, he’s started to become more adventurous; him jacking Burr off is not unusual, and once or twice he’s even tried to suck him off before losing his nerve. So there’s some chemistry there, and Burr finds it easy to just go with what feels good, rather than keeping his persona up the whole time.

He isn’t all that bad to talk to, either. They finish their time together by watching a few minutes of trashy TV and cuddling, and Jefferson likes to chatter. Sometimes it’s inane - prattling on about his work day, oblivious to whether or not Burr cares or even understands what he’s saying, but sometimes it’s interesting. For example:

“Did you know people used to think tomatoes were poisonous? There was this guy - I forget his name - but back in the 1800s, like, the early part of the century, he was having dinner with a bunch of guys, and they all thought you’d die if you ate a tomato, so he whipped one out and just _ate it,_ and everyone freaked out, like, ‘this guy’s gonna die,’ but he didn’t die. He just scared the shit out of everyone to prove a point.”

“He sounds like a fun person to have dinner with,” Burr says, and the sarcasm in his voice seems lost on Jefferson, who just responds:

“I know, right? That’s the kind of thing _I’d_ like to do someday.”

So between the decent pillow talk and the way Jefferson touches him, Burr feels confident in accepting when Jefferson asks him, “would you mind if I took you out for dinner before our next session? I’m happy to book for three hours instead of two - that way we have time to eat and also, you know, have our two hours together.”

“I’d like that very much,” Burr says graciously.

Going out with clients is always a far different experience than staying in, if only because Burr has never gotten over the fear of having someone he knows seeing him and calling his other name. He keeps his work and personal life fastidiously separate - different phones, different email addresses, different names - and he allows for absolutely zero cross over between them.

And then there’s the balance for the client. Burr knows that if he dresses too provocatively, it draws attention; but if he’s too plain, the client loses interest. He takes great pride in his fashion sense, so he struggles less in this aspect than his friends tend to - Liam, in particular, is a fashion disaster, and Burr can’t count the number of times he’s been called upon to fix his wardrobe - but it’s still a source of stress.

He goes for understated. He looks good in greys, so he puts on a warm grey shirt, charcoal pants, and a black jacket that draws in at the waist, flaunting his narrow hips. After some internal debate, and against his better judgement (giving in to unhealthy habits just encourages them, he tries to tell himself), he pokes his head out of his bedroom and asks Liam for a purple tie.

“Purple? What shade?” Liam asks, looking up from the floor, where he and Theo are carefully cutting construction paper into vaguely humanoid shapes. “Let me check my closet, I’m sure I have like, a thousand ties in there -”

“Do you have a purple tie or not?” Burr cuts him off.

"Do I look like a guy who owns _any_ ties?” Liam drawls.

So that means Burr leaves early and stops by Macy’s. He leaves an hour or so to browse, and it takes him almost that much time to convince himself to buy something loud and obnoxious and in line with Jefferson’s tastes. In the end, he compromises; he picks out a grey tie with purple vines trailing in intricate patterns over it. It’s still garish, compared to what he’d usually wear, but at least it’s not paisley, or something similarly horrible.

Outfit horrifyingly complete, Burr takes his time walking to the restaurant Jefferson suggested. He can feel himself easing into the confident swaying walk he wears on the job; he allows himself to feel every inch of his body, the tensing of the muscles in his legs, the jolt of his shoes hitting the sidewalk. He draws himself up to his full height and lives at the edges of his body - his fingertips, his toes, his lips, the tip of his tongue.

He’s confident, he’s ready, he’s bright and brilliant and prepared for anything Thomas Jefferson throws at him, and then he walks into the restaurant and sees Jefferson wearing a fuchsia jacket with black satin lapels, and he almost turns around and walks right back out.

But Burr is a professional and he prides himself on his integrity; he refuses to stand up a client, especially one who's been a regular for two months. He plasters his work smile to his face, rolls his shoulders back, and approaches the table Jefferson is waiting at.

“Good evening,” he says.

Jefferson, leaning back in his chair, looks Burr up and down. There’s a predatory glint in his eye that Burr doesn’t like. “Jamie,” he purrs; the sound makes Burr’s skin crawl. “Please sit.”

No chair holding this time. Jefferson speaks to him as one might speak to a subordinate. _Don’t feel this so deeply,_ Burr tells himself. The smile on his face doesn’t waver for an instant.

He sits and rests his hands on the table in front of him, taking in the way Jefferson sits. It’s careless and sloppy; Jefferson is settled back lazily, taking up too much space, his long arms behind his head, legs spread too wide. Burr, by contrast, folds himself neatly into his seat and sits with his knees shoulder-width apart. He can’t help but compare their postures. Burr sits properly, composed, holding himself with understated confidence; Jefferson is sprawled out and messy, arrogant, prideful.

“How was work?” Burr brings himself to ask. He can’t help the cold edge in his voice.

“Great. Things are speeding up because everyone wants their business licensed before it starts getting to be summer. The weather warms up a little and we make money.” Jefferson grins. “How about you? How was your … work?”

The pause before ‘work’ is clearly calculated. Burr bristles but forces himself to relax. “You’re my only appointment today,” he says.

“That’s good to hear. Getting a fresh product.” And then, horrifyingly, he winks. Burr turns away.

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, yes,” he hears himself say. He’s surprised there isn’t all that much anger in his voice.

He’s saved from further response by the arrival of a rather anxious-looking server. “More wine, sir?” he asks, turning to Jefferson.

“Yes, but do you have anything that isn’t garbage? I asked for a decent dry white - it’s absolutely ridiculous that you don’t have anything aside from California wines here, and trying to pass off a Kongsgaard chardonnay as any kind of patch on Saint-Aubin is dishonest at best and clear robbery at worst.”

“My apologies, sir,” the server says, his face slowly reddening. “I’ll remove that from the bill and see if we can find you anything better.”

“Good,” Jefferson says smugly. “What would you like, Jamie?”

Burr makes eye contact with the server and offers a small smile. “Cranberry and soda, please,” he says, and he hopes the apology for Jefferson’s atrocious behavior is evident in his voice.

“Of course, sir. Have either of you had a chance to look at the menus?”

“No,” Jefferson says flatly, clearly uninterested.

“Well, please allow me to suggest -”

“No thanks. Just find a better wine.” Jefferson cuts him off carelessly, and the server, clearly too distressed to argue, makes an awkward nodding bow and disappears.

“You really don’t have to be so mean,” is what Burr wants to say. What he says instead is, “what do you recommend?”

“They do great seafood. Would you like to try this, by the way?” Jefferson offers his half-full wine glass.

“Is that the - what was it - Kongsgaard? The one you don’t like?”

"Truth be told, it’s not actually all that bad,” Jefferson admits with a conspiratorial smile. “Just not my favourite and I really would prefer something better.”

“I see,” Burr says.

“Would you like to order anything more than a cranberry and soda, by the way? There’s no question of me being able to afford something nicer - do you like wine? Or they do decent cocktails.”

“I prefer not to drink on the job,” Burr says. He doesn’t add, _I told you that at the beginning of our first appointment and you’ve never needed a reminder until now._

“Well, we’re out tonight, so I thought that might be a different case - but it doesn’t matter. Whatever my doll wants.”

“I’m perfectly happy with my choice, thank you.” This time Burr can’t keep the chill out of his voice. Jefferson seems taken aback, and for an instant he thinks there’s an apology coming; but the moment passes and Jefferson starts talking about something else, and any hope Burr had of him redeeming himself is gone.

“So we’re going to be moving offices. The one we’re in isn’t big enough and they won’t let me paint the walls anyway - some weird shit in the lease - and we found a space that’s double the size and fine with me painting and hanging pictures. My office in particular is going to be much bigger, nice view of the city … it’s more than big enough to put in a few cushions, maybe a chaise longue, if you want to stop by sometime.” Jefferson winks as if the suggestion is appealing.

“If you want to schedule for appointments at other times I’m happy to speak to you about that, but I do need to keep my days free, for the most part,” Burr says. “I have other engagements on weekdays.”

“Anything you can bump for me?”

“I’ll let you know, but it isn’t likely,” Burr tells him.

“What, really? Doesn’t make me seem like much of a priority,” Jefferson says.

It’s bait; Burr knows it’s bait. It would be so easy to react, to give him the opposite of what he wants - but he resists, holding back the myriad of retorts he feels burning on the tip of his tongue.

“Unfortunately my work schedule is set as is for a reason. I assure you, you’re very high priority; I just can’t make changes to my weekdays,” Burr insists calmly. “If any time opens up during weekdays you’ll be the first to know.”

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for that answer for now,” Jefferson says, as their server arrives bearing a bottle of wine and a new glass.

“Would you like to taste it before I pour, sir?”

“Yes, I need to make sure it’s half decent this time.” Jefferson allows a splash of wine to be poured before him and takes his time swirling the glass. He draws a deep breath in, pulling a face at the aroma, and then tips the glass back, clicking his teeth against the rim. For a second, he makes eye contact with Burr, and winks.

Burr doesn’t quite catch himself in time. He knows the disgust was plain on his face.

Wonder of wonders, that seems to change something. Jefferson tastes the wine, declares it acceptable, and allows a full glass to be poured.

Jefferson looks down at his menu and Burr makes the most of the reprieve by glancing at his phone. It’s hardly been a quarter of an hour.

 _Just make it through dinner,_ he tells himself. _You’ve done worse for less money._

That doesn’t make the disappointment go away.

 

Burr _knows_ that his expectations are not Jefferson’s problem, nor his responsibility. He _knows_ that expecting anything deeper than a professional relationship between the two of them is a bad idea. But he can’t help but feel - well, let down; he’d seen more to Jefferson than the bravado and belittling he saw at dinner, and he isn’t sure exactly which part was the untruthfulness. Or maybe neither part is a lie. Maybe the same man who cuddles him after making sure he gets off is just as genuinely Jefferson as the man who called him ‘doll,’ mocked his job and made a waiter cry.

Jefferson drives them back to his townhouse. Burr is silent as he can be the whole way; he responds minimally to questions and affirms statements with a hum at most, if he feels he can’t get away without responding. Jefferson seems to get the message and soon stops waiting for responses as he prattles on.

Their routine feels almost like a joke now. Burr accepts a can of sparkling peach juice and a glass. He takes off his shoes at the door. He follows Jefferson to the bed. He massages his client in silence.

As Burr works, Jefferson’s bravado seems to disappear bit by bit, until there’s no arrogance in the lines of his shoulders or the tilt of his head. He eases into Burr’s touch, making soft noises of approval; eventually he sighs, and the tension disappears from his muscles.

“That feels amazing,” he murmurs into the bedspread. “I didn’t realize how tight I was.”

“You were carrying a lot of tension here,” Burr agrees noncommittally, as he strokes gently along Jefferson’s spine.

“Thank you, Jamie. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Burr says, entirely too quickly.

“You seem quieter tonight.”

“I’m perfectly alright, Thomas,” Burr says insistently.

“Okay. If you need anything you can let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” Burr agrees.

They go through the motions of intimacy. Back rub, condom on, blowjob. Burr throws himself into his work. He drowns out his thoughts, pushes away his disappointment. He;s a professional. He can do this in his sleep. Jefferson asks to jack him off.

He puts on a condom, manages to get hard enough for some kind of believability. He waits until Jefferson is right on the edge of orgasm and then fakes his own. No great tragedy. He’s faked countless times before. It’s easy enough to do; Jefferson closes his eyes when he comes and he doesn’t open them again for a few minutes. It buys him time to slip both condoms off and dispose of them. He doubts Jefferson will check his; that would be supremely weird. Not Jefferson weird, either, just straight up creepy.

He lets Jefferson cuddle him. If he blanks his mind, lets himself drift, he doesn’t feel it. He can pretend it’s been a normal day at work. He can pretend he doesn’t particularly care about Jefferson. He can pretend he doesn’t feel hurt or angry or betrayed.

Still, he lets himself think, it would have been nice to be friends, at least.

 

On his way home, he carefully examines his feelings about Jefferson. There’s bewilderment there, a hint of resentment, deep feelings of disappointment. Underneath that is the beginning of genuine affection.  
Burr probes that feeling for a while. And then, determined, he allows himself to push it away.

It’s no use nurturing any kind of feeling over a client, after all. It just gets in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos fill the empty void inside of my heart for a fleeting instant before the cold returns again. come chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	4. Can I look good for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Jefferson is a completely different man from the Jefferson who throws tantrums over wine in a restaurant, and Burr can’t reconcile them. He can’t make the two of them make sense. It just doesn’t work - and he doesn’t know where the seam is, where one Jefferson ends and the other begins, and it hurts him to try and puzzle through it.

  1. _Outfits. Pretty much anything you can think of but especially leather._



 

A letter comes home from Theo’s school.

Burr picks her up Friday afternoon, and he senses the storm imminent. Theo is glowering, something he rarely sees, and he knows there’s a big problem.

“What’s going on?” he asks her.

“Nothing,” she snaps. She jams her hands in her pockets to avoid taking Burr’s hand, and they walk in silence for a few blocks. Burr waits patiently. It’s no use pushing her when she’s like this; she’s so seldom angry and her anger takes its time.

Finally Theo speaks up. “Miss Wilson gave me a letter to give you,” she mutters angrily.

“What about?” Burr pushes gently.

“She says she’s worried about your job. But you aren’t doing anything wrong, are you?”

“No, honey. I’m not.”

“Then how come I’m the only one who gets a letter sent home?”

Burr puts a hand on Theo’s shoulder, but she shrugs it off. He lets her be angry. There’s guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach but he pushes it away; his daughter’s feelings are more important right now. He can deal with his later.

The silence drags out for a while. It isn’t until they get back to their building that Theo speaks up again.

“It isn’t fair,” she says softly.

Burr pauses, putting his keys back into his pocket. “I know,” he says.

 

Once Theo is in bed, Burr and Liam stay up, talking in Liam’s bedroom in hushed whispers.

“She said she’s concerned about my choice of career and the influence it may be having on my child, especially considering that I’m cohabitating with another man.” Burr grits his teeth. “And was it really necessary for her to pick on how you look? Your tattoos aren’t anything offensive, your most visible one is a  _ fish.”  _

“Are you really surprised? Some people look for any reason to be upset. The real question is how we’re going to move forward from this, Aaron. What do we tell her?” Liam’s voice is a husky growl. Usually that soft rasp makes Burr feel safe; now, it makes him feel dizzy and lost.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to cover it up - I’ll do some reference hunting. I should have kept my cover job, but I thought - with her being older - it would be fine.” Burr draws a deep breath, closes his eyes, and centres himself. “I don’t want things to get bad again. After her mom died there was that whole mess about whether or not I’d be able to take care of her. I understand why there was concern, I was so young, but we’re steady. We’re okay and we take great care of her.”

“You’re a great father,” Liam reassures him.

Burr takes Liam’s hand and squeezes. “I am,” he agrees. “I’m an amazing father. And so are you.”

“Uncle,” Liam corrects.

“You’re just as much her parent as I am, if we’re being honest.”

Liam laughs. “Someday you may meet a guy who you want to take that title, and it’s easier if I’m not occupying it.”

“I doubt that,” Burr says, but there’s a weight off his chest suddenly. “We’ll get through this, Liam.”

He says that for his own benefit, not Liam’s, but his best friend agrees anyway. “We always do.”

 

Saturday comes, and, dreading their session, Burr dresses for another night out. Jefferson was surprisingly vague about this one; he gave Burr directions to a park instead of to a restaurant, which seems to be a pointedly non-Jefferson thing to do.

_ Anything I should wear in particular?  _ Burr texts, standing in his bedroom in boxer briefs and a pair of purple socks.

_ Whatever you want. Not a lot of activity, _ Jefferson shoots back.

So Burr goes for casual. Dark skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and a grey v-neck sweater. He packs his bag for the night with the usual condoms and lube, and then, after a moment of deliberation, adds a couple of things from the locked filing cabinet he hides in his closet.

Liam and Theo are, as always, in the living room, making some sort of intricate mess on the rug, and Burr pauses to kiss each of them on the top of the head as he leaves.

“Are you out late again tonight?” Theo asks.

“Yes, honey. Every Saturday from now on, I think. You make sure you’re in bed at a good time tonight, okay?” Burr tousles her hair and Theo groans, ducking in an effort to save her pigtails.

“Uncle Liam  _ just _ did my hair,” she complains.

“She’s almost as much of a diva as you are,” Burr says to Liam, who is carefully applying lip gloss.

“ ‘Almost’ being the key word there. Pass the nail polish.” This last bit is directed at Theo, who has begun to paint her toenails bright green and orange.

“Just a second,” she says.

Burr watches with concern, and he manages to last an entire thirty seconds before he says, “be careful, don’t spill any on the rug. Is that really the best place to be doing that?”

“Yes,” Liam informs him. “You do two things on makeover night. One, you do makeovers. Two, you watch the Princess Bride, and you  _ can’t _ do that without a TV, and this is the only TV that isn’t in my bedroom or your bedroom. Of course, we could do makeovers on your bed if you want.”

“Yes!” crows Theo.

“No,” Burr insists. “Stay here, just don’t get nail polish on anything but yourselves. On anything but your toes. Plastic wrap everything, put down a tarp, paint your nails in a bubble, break into the neighbour’s place and use their living room. I’m going out. Love you both.”

“Bye dad,” Theo calls.

“Phone’s on loud,” Liam adds as Burr grabs his jacket and whisks out the door.

The park is close enough that Burr feels fine walking there. It saves a few dollars on cab fare, at least. There’s a bit of a chill in the air; it’s getting to the end of spring, but the evenings are still brisk, and Burr finds himself shivering a little, wishing for a scarf. Jefferson said there wouldn’t be much activity, but Burr hopes they’ll at least be walking.

The park is one he and Liam often take Theo to. There are trails through patches of forest; one particularly beautiful trail loops around a pond that’s usually full of turtles, frogs, and ducks. Theo is enchanted by any creature smaller than herself and on several occasions Burr has had to haul her out of the pond after she’s become particularly enamored with a tiny critter. It feels strange to be turning up here without his daughter in tow.

He hesitates near the start of one of the trails, about to text Jefferson, when he spots movement out of the corner of his eye. Burr turns to see Jefferson a few meters away, wearing a backpack and holding a suspiciously purple bundle in his arms.

“Hey, Jamie,” Jefferson calls, walking toward him. Burr closes the distance. He’s surprised to see an easy, open smile on Jefferson’s face, and no predatory glint in his eye.

“Thomas,” he says, smiling back - he can’t help it. He kisses Jefferson’s cheek in greeting and is rewarded by a gentle hand at the back of his neck.

“Glad to see you. Walk with me?” Jefferson offers his arm and Burr takes it, caught off guard by the gesture. 

“Do you need help carrying that?” he asks.

“No, I’ve got it. It isn’t heavy. How was your day?”

“It was fine, thank you. Yourself?”

Jefferson heaves a sigh and says, “busy. I’ve had to put in a lot of overtime, what with all the new clients coming in. It’s nice to just take a break and relax. And you’re always good company, so tonight is a hell of a reward. Are you cold?”

Burr, to his horror, has just shivered a little. “I’m fine,” he lies.

“No, you must be cold - that’s a very thin jacket. Here.” Jefferson dissembles his bundle, which turns out to be two blankets, and drapes one around Burr’s shoulders. “Is that better?”

“Much,” Burr agrees. It’s a dark purple, dark enough that he can pretend it’s black if he squints a little or doesn’t look at it directly, and it’s undeniably warm. “Thank you.”

“We aren’t going much further - I just like to be away from the streetlights.” Jefferson is leading them along a path towards the pond, and Burr smiles despite himself. He doesn’t bother to reply; he just tucks himself up closer against Jefferson’s side, grateful for the warmth of the blanket.

He’s content just to follow, and then to wait patiently while Jefferson chooses a spot out from under the trees. Jefferson lays the second blanket down and invites Burr to sit while he digs a bottle and two plastic cups out of his backpack.

“Not wine,” he reassures Burr, who must have made some kind of face. “I remember, don’t worry. It’s sparkling apple juice. I’ll pretend it’s alcoholic.”

Burr allows him to pour them both glasses and settle on the blanket. He waits a moment, then leans against Jefferson; Jefferson curls an arm around him and kisses him just behind the ear. 

“Wait, was that alright?” Jefferson sounds uncomfortable and Burr nearly laughs. 

“Yes, it was fine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t check first.”

Burr marvels at the change in the man.  _ What’s happened to you in one week that you’re suddenly back to this? _ he wants to ask. Instead, he nestles closer. “That’s alright, Thomas. I’ll stop you if you do anything that makes me uncomfortable,” he promises.

“I think that’s as much as I’d dare to try in public. Look up,” Jefferson adds, and Burr obeys, gazing up at the sky.

Silence draws out between them, heavy and warm. Burr is more than content just to sit like this, leaning against Jefferson, cradled in one of his arms and not speaking. It’s almost too intimate - Jefferson is not the quiet type, and sitting here so silent feels far more revealing than any nakedness the two of them have shared.

Jefferson shifts and Burr sits up for a moment. “Lay down,” he suggests. Jefferson obeys far too easily, and Burr curls up with him, his head on Jefferson’s chest and one arm over his waist. He drapes his blanket over both of them and their shared body heat warms him to the core, and suddenly he can’t quite remember what it feels like to be cold.

“I know you usually watch the time,” Jefferson whispers. “So if you wouldn’t mind letting me know when it’s getting close to forty minutes -”

“We can go a bit longer,” Burr hears himself saying. He bites the words off suddenly; he wants to take them back, but when he chases that thought, he finds himself wondering if it would really be so bad to go a little over time tonight.

“I don’t want to take you away from any other appointments.”

“No others tonight. There’s just you.” He knows there’s more there, in those words, and if Jefferson cared to read into that, it would be far too easy. Jefferson doesn’t say anything. 

Time stretches out languidly beneath him, a river he sinks into. He finds himself dozing a little. The steady rise and fall of Jefferson’s chest is soothing; it’s a rocking motion, it’s like a gentle ocean beneath his head, and he can hear Jefferson’s heart and the rush of air in his lungs, and he wants to just let himself drift off and go to sleep, because this Jefferson is not the Jefferson who mocked and degraded him last week. This is the sweet man who holds him after sex and -

Not after sex. After his  _ job. _ Burr shakes himself awake and shifts his shoulders, stretching away tension, and Jefferson asks sleepily, “is it time?”

Burr doesn’t look at his phone, but he knows it’s been long enough for things to get dangerous.

“Yes,” he says.

Jefferson trusts him.

They travel together to Jefferson’s home, and on the way Burr finds himself drifting far too often. Jefferson seems sleepy enough that he isn’t chattering away. He drives in silence, and Burr sinks into the heated passenger seat, the blanket still wrapped around him. As they pass streetlights he notices the blanket has a floral print he couldn’t see in the park. This Jefferson, the Jefferson who owns a floral blanket and buys sparkling apple juice to drink romantically in the park with the man he pays for sex, is a completely different man from the Jefferson who throws tantrums over wine in a restaurant, and Burr can’t reconcile them. He can’t make the two of them make sense. It just doesn’t work - and he doesn’t know where the seam is, where one Jefferson ends and the other begins, and it hurts him to try and puzzle through it.

It feels nice to walk into the house together. It’s decidedly homey to stand at the door with Jefferson, both of them removing their jackets and shoes, and to stumble upstairs sleepily like they’re doing this for fun and not for any other reason. Burr almost feels guilt taking the envelope full of cash. Almost.

He keeps catching himself feeling things and shoving those feelings away. Eventually he tells Jefferson to wait, that he has a surprise, and escapes to the bathroom to be alone for a moment with his thoughts.

_ You are a professional, _ he tells himself, staring levelly at his face in the mirror.  _ Act like one, for God’s sakes. Take a breath. Be aware of what’s going on. Why are you feeling this now? _

He examines what’s happening in his body and his mind. He feels tension in his chest and stomach - that’s anxiety. Anxiety over his daughter, anxiety about his life at home. He needs affection. He needs reassurance. Surely that’s all this is; he just wants closeness and companionship. This is not the place for that. His emotions do not impact his job, as a rule. 

So he throws himself into his work. He breathes through the anxiety and releases it as he undresses. He carefully arranges the surprises he brought on the counter and packs his clothing into his bag. Each motion is familiar; removing clothing and putting it back on is a routine he’s done thousands of times and he knows what comes next. Even if it’s different, it’s always the same. It’s what he’s good at it. It’s comfort. It makes sense.

By the time he’s ready, the anxiety is gone. He opens the bathroom door and calls, “You awake still, Thomas?”

“Mmhm,” Jefferson replies from where he’s flopped on the bed, but his voice is soft and thick with sleep. “What’s up, Jamie?”

“Open your eyes,” Burr prompts, standing at the foot of the bed.

Jefferson complies and it seems to take him a minute to absorb what he’s seeing, and then his eyes go wide and his lips part. “Oh, holy shit,” he says softly.

And if Burr felt at all silly wearing that costume, he doesn’t now.

He’s wearing soft, supple leather, head to toe: bracers that reach almost to his elbow, thigh-high boots, booty shorts studded along the front of the crotch, and a broad-strapped harness that crosses over his chest, hiding his nipples and straining against his pectorals. The shorts end just above his cock and the trail of hair down from his navel is a path he hopes entices Jefferson - and, judging by the hard line he sees against the front of Jefferson’s pants, it’s a perfect invitation.

He slinks onto the bed and Jefferson’s hands are all over him, stroking the places where the leather meets his skin, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the hems. The leather is well worn and fits perfectly, and Burr can feel Jefferson’s breathing speed up as he straddles his lap and grinds against his cock.

“I need to feel my dick against that,” Jefferson chokes. Wordlessly, Burr unbuttons Jefferson’s shirt, then his pants, stripping him at his leisure. It’s too easy to work him up like this - the brush of his fingers against one nipple as he removes the shirt, the drag of his cock, hard in the shorts, against Jefferson’s as he shifts to take his pants off. Jefferson is moaning before his boxers are off and when his cock is finally free it’s obscene, leaking, so hard it looks painful.

Burr smears the pre down along Jefferson’s frenulum, and the moan that explodes from his chest is wanton, and Burr can’t wait any longer - he rips a condom wrapper open with his teeth and slides it on Jefferson as fast as he can, and he can barely wait that long before he sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Jamie,” Jefferson pants, his voice ragged, and Burr moans in response, sucking ferociously. Jefferson bucks and rolls his hips; Burr can’t help but grind against one of his legs, desperate for some sort of contact.

He can’t hold off for long - his second surprise is teasing him and every movement is agony, and when he can’t take it any longer he pulls off of Jefferson’s cock and asks, “do you want to fuck me, Thomas?”

“Fuck you?” He doesn’t seem to understand, so Burr sways his hips in response, and Jefferson suddenly gets it and huffs, “yes,  _ fuck, _ yes.”

So Burr strips off his shorts - Jefferson makes a disappointed noise at that, which would be uproariously funny if Burr wasn’t so in the zone, because how would he take a dick with his shorts on? - and turns around so Jefferson can see him ease his warm-up plug out and lube up. He makes far too much noise about such a minor sensation, but he can hear Jefferson whimper in response, and he imagines just how hard that huge cock will be inside him, and it’s all worth it.

Burr straddles Jefferson’s lap and presses the tip of his cock against his ass, suddenly very aware of how big it is. He’s instantly grateful that he stretched first; taking that monster unprepared would be a nightmare. It may be worth an attempt someday.

He eases back and he thinks for a moment it’s too much, too big - and then the head pops through and he grunts, half in agony, half in ecstasy. There’s a burn that he leans back against and bears down on, and it segues into a beautiful deep drag. Jefferson rubs his palms on the leather of his boots as he grinds against Burr. The push of Jefferson’s hands helps Burr sink down on his cock until it’s buried completely. 

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Jefferson breathes, and Burr moans.

“You’re bigger than I thought,” he replies.

“Good match, then. Jamie -” Jefferson cuts himself off, and then grits out, “please kiss me -”

So Burr kisses him voraciously, biting at his lower lip, thrusting his tongue into Jefferson’s mouth. He moans and grunts and whimpers as he fucks himself on Jefferson’s cock. He can hear the wet sound of the lube, and he shudders with satisfaction at that, wondering how it would feel if he could take that condom off and feel him, skin to skin, and then feel him come inside -

It’s then that Jefferson wraps his fingers around Burr’s cock and jacks and Burr shouts, a wordless wail as his orgasm hits. His thighs go loose and shaky, and he finds he can’t keep moving on Jefferson’s cock. He can’t make his legs work. Overwhelmed, he buries his face against Jefferson’s neck and sobs what he thinks are words of affection as he rides out his orgasm.

“Yeah,” Jefferson is saying. Back to the talking, then. “Fuck, Jamie, you’re so tight. Like feeling my cock in you? You have such a tight ass and such a beautiful dick, and you feel so good clenching on me like that, fuck, I want to fill you up.”

“Fill me up,” Burr echoes obligingly as his breathing slows.

“I want to fill you with my come, you want me to come in you?”

“Yes,” pants Burr.

“Beg me,” Jefferson tells him.

So Burr begs. He tilts his pelvis back so Jefferson can fuck deeper and whispers frantically into his ear, “please, Thomas, fuck me with that huge cock. Please come in me. Please, I want your come in me so  _ bad, _ I want all of it, I won’t waste any. Please fill me. Please -”

He feels the whole of Jefferson’s body tense and then a hard thrust, and suddenly Jefferson is gasping and moaning, and he’s never made noises like that before. Burr sinks into his body and lets the sounds wash over him. Jefferson sounds so utterly broken, and the way he breathes the name “Jamie” makes Burr suddenly ache to hear him say “Aaron” instead.

They lay together, weak and shaky, slick with sweat. Burr feels his come between their stomachs.

He glances at the clock. There’s another forty minutes - Thomas must always overschedule so there’s cuddling time - and Burr realizes he has time for the third surprise.

“I have one more thing for you, baby,” he breathes into Jefferson’s ear.

“Mm?” is the sleepy response.

Burr pulls off of Jefferson and feels strangely hollow as that perfect cock slides out of him. He fetches a face cloth to wipe them both clean, and on the way he grabs the last surprise from his bag.

He holds it ready as he cleans Jefferson’s stomach. The moment he’s done, he trails his fingers lightly along the hard lines of Jefferson’s abdomen and whispers, “open your eyes again.”

Jefferson stares at the collar in Burr’s hand.

“Can you spend the night?” he asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am building a home of comments and kudos. please contribute to my building materials. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	5. Trust me -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson roasts local mom. More news at 11.

  1. _Collars? Maybe? This is one I don’t know much about._



 

“If I’m staying I need to do a couple things first,” Burr says. “I need payment for the whole night, and I need to call my security.”

“I don’t have that much cash, but I can go out to an ATM,” Jefferson says.

“Email transfers work too.”

“That’s fine with me. What will I owe you for overnight?”

Burr tells him and Jefferson nods, absorbing it.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to pay that much - we can extend a couple hours instead of all night,” Burr begins.

“No, I want this. Give me a second?” Jefferson gets up to rifle through his pockets for his phone, and Burr takes the opportunity to go into the bathroom and call Liam.

Liam picks up almost instantly - he must have had his phone in his hand. “Hey boo.”

“Hey,” Burr says. “He asked me to spend the night.”

“Are you going to?”

“Yes. I know you’re going to lecture me.”

“Yes, I am, and you’re going to listen. You know we book ahead for overnight. What if I had a client in the morning? What would we do with Theo? And you know it’s harder to know if you’re safe there overnight when you make the decision during the session.”

“You’re right,” Burr says.

“I’m always right. Anyway, I don’t have a client in the morning. What is it you want for dessert?” Liam asks, their question for _are you okay, do you need me to call the cops?_

“Steak,” Burr says, code for _I’m fine, this is not coerced, I am making this decision without any outside influence and he isn’t forcing me to stay._

“Cool. Wanna say goodnight to Theo?”

“Yes,” Burr says. There’s shuffling for a minute as the phone is passed, and then Theo’s sleepy voice comes through.

“Hey dad, you having a good time?”

“Yes, honey. Did you have a good night with Uncle Liam?”

“Mmhm. I’m going to bed. I love you.”

“Love you too, honey. I’ll bring you breakfast when I come home tomorrow.”

“ ‘Kay,” Theo says. There’s more shuffling and a thud, and then Liam comes back on the line.

“You be safe, Aaron. If anything fucky goes down, my phone’s on loud all night. Okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

Liam makes a kissing noise into the phone and then hangs up. Burr takes a moment to freshen up, splashing water on his face and his ass and rearranging his leather a little where it rubs against him. He hears his phone ding at him as an email comes through - it’s the transfer, and the amount is too high, and Burr rolls his eyes.

“You overpaid me,” he says as he leaves the bathroom and climbs into bed, cuddling up beside Jefferson and picking the collar up off the nightstand.

“No such thing as overpaying for good service. Everything alright?”

“Mmhm. Do you need a break or are you ready to go?” Burr asks.

“I’m ready.” The look on Jefferson’s face is intoxicating. Burr straddles him and grinds a little as he lifts the collar to his neck.

He puts it on slowly, drawing the length of it through his fingers and then looping it around his neck. Jefferson’s expression fades from one of near-painful arousal to mild confusion.

“Something wrong?” Burr asks.

“No,” Jefferson says. “I just, uh, thought it would do … more for me. Seeing you hold it was - you know - but then you put it on.”

“Maybe it’s just the idea of the collar,” Burr suggests.

“Maybe,” Jefferson says, but he sounds doubtful.

Burr takes the collar off, but the second it’s in his hands again Jefferson quivers a little. He puts his palms on Jefferson’s chest and rubs slowly, and then, staring into Jefferson’s eyes, he trails his fingers up to his throat.

“Jamie -?”

“Trust me,” Burr breathes, and he wraps his fingers around Jefferson’s neck.

Jefferson grunts, but he pushes against Burr’s hand, and his eyes half-close as he grinds his hips up.

Burr tilts his chin up, and it’s his turn to flash a predatory grin. “Oh, _this_ will be interesting,” he whispers.

 

The week goes by in a blur. Theo comes home every day looking slightly put out, but she doesn’t bring up any new battles. Burr makes a habit of being the one to pick her up instead of Liam, who has agreed to take a step back from being seen around the school.

“I mean, what’s she gonna do?” Liam asks. “She has no proof of you doing anything illegal, and worst comes to worst you point at your freelancing -”

“It wouldn’t really hold up against tough scrutiny, but yes,” Burr agrees. “Anyway, I think we should fly under the radar. I’ll do school pickup, you can take her to and from her art classes.”

“Deal. She’s happier after those anyway. Good luck with the school day blues,” Liam says.

Saturday rolls around, and with it, another dinner invitation. Theo is out for the night at a slumber party (“I can have _all_ my girlfriends over,” Liam announces excitedly, and Burr loses it - the thought of Liam dating _one_ woman, let alone several, is objectively ridiculous). Burr debates wearing the same grey and purple tie, and decides against it; considering how prolific his last donation from Jefferson was, he can afford to indulge the man and wear something a little more garish.

So there’s another stop by Macy’s and this time he forces himself to go full Jefferson. Purple paisley is _far_ less painful when the pattern is set against black, he tries to tell himself, but he can’t suppress a shudder as he realizes he’s going to be paying real, actual money for something that tacky.

He tries not to think about the fact that he’ll be wearing it _in public_ for _an hour._

Burr waits until he’s in the privacy of a cab to tie it, and then hurriedly buttons his charcoal coat to hide the pattern as much as possible. At least by the time he has to take off his coat, he’ll be in the restaurant, and Jefferson seems to favour those that depend on candle light. That gives him some confidence, at least.

But his confidence disappears when he walks into the restaurant and sees Jefferson wearing a paisley shirt. He stops dead and it takes a tremendous amount of effort to keep moving toward the table and sit down. His coat was taken from him at the door by the host; he has nothing to hide behind, and there he is, in his shirt sleeves, _matching with Jefferson_ and ready to spontaneously combust.

“I _love_ the tie,” Jefferson tells him, and there’s that arrogance back in his voice, and Burr is tempted to crawl under the table and declare it Fort Anti-Jefferson.

“Well, clearly one of us has to change,” Burr says, and at the last second he remembers to make it sound like a joke.

“We should match more often. I think this probably says something about our compatibility.” Jefferson is digging for some sort of praise and he doesn’t even have the decency to be subtle about it.

Burr gives him a half smile, refusing to rise to the bait. “Or it says something about your determination to eliminate every other colour from the visible spectrum.”

Jefferson laughs. “We don’t really need any other colours.”

“I’m partial to green,” Burr says before he can stop himself.

Thankfully Jefferson doesn’t seem to notice the implication. He gives Burr an approving once-over and replies, “you’d look good in green. What is it with all the grey scale, anyway?”

“It’s understated,” Burr tells him. He notices someone approaching out of the corner of his eye, and, hoping to actually share a decent moment with Jefferson before the man starts yelling at another waiter, he continues in what he hopes is an endearing manner, “I like the way it draws attention to my actions rather than my body. You, of course, have both the body and the bravado to go with it, so I can see why you’d want to flaunt -”

“Aaron Burr?” says a voice to his left, and his blood goes ice cold.

His first instinct, absurdly, is to pretend he doesn’t speak English. His second is to ignore the voice and continue on as though he didn’t hear anything. But he recognizes that voice, and he knows he can’t just ignore it, because the owner of the voice is the mother of a boy in Theo’s class, and she has already proven herself to be one of those delightful people who, if not given enough attention, simply gets louder and louder until everyone is forced to hear her.

“Yes, good evening, Brenda,” Burr says, pointedly refusing to look at Jefferson’s face. He’s no masochist; he doesn’t want to know what he’ll see there.

“Out without your husband? Does he know you’re having dinner with another man?”

“He isn’t my husband, and I do, on occasion, go places without my roommate, yes,” Burr says drily. “That’s sort of an advantage of the fact that we are not physically attached to each other.”

“And who is this?” Brenda barrels ahead, apparently choosing not to hear anything Burr is saying.

“Thomas Jefferson,” Jefferson says, shaking her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Brenda Miller,” she responds coolly. “Mrs Miller is fine.” She directs a pointed glance at Burr at that, and he gazes levelly back at her, his eyebrows raised. He doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. There’s an awkward moment of silence, and then Brenda continues, “Connor came home from school the other day and let me know he was _quite_ worried about poor Theodosia.”

“She’s very well, thank you,” Burr says, hoping to cut her off, but she’s barrelling ahead.

“You see, she said some rather intriguing things about your choice of career - and considering her other parent seems to be an … interesting influence, I made up my mind to speak to you as soon as possible about my concerns.”

“Thank you for that concern, Brenda, but we’re perfectly alright.” Burr sneaks a look at Jefferson, expecting some kind of horror or shock or disgust to be settled on his face, but instead he sees something very close to tranquility. There’s a tightness around Jefferson’s eyes and a tilt to his eyebrow that belies discomfort, but his lips are relaxed, upturned slightly at the corners. They meet each other’s eyes for a moment; Jefferson twitches one eyelid in something very close to a wink.

“Funny you should mention Mr Burr’s career,” Jefferson drawls, and Burr is suddenly thankful for his don’t-fuck-with-me voice. “He’s actually here interviewing me about my business.”

“Is that _so?”_ Brenda’s eyebrows shoot up almost to her hairline. “I was under the impression that your work was more - unsavoury.”

“Well, it often is unsavoury to be self-employed, but what can you do? I entirely understand Mr Burr’s hesitance to speak freely about his work if this is the kind of grilling he gets over it. Anyway, we have quite a lot of material to get through and I think that I wouldn’t like to take up any more of his time than is necessary, so if you could excuse us?” Jefferson’s voice is commanding and forceful, and the rasp in it is far more pronounced, giving him an almost-aggressive edge. It’s nearly a growl as he cuts off Brenda’s protests with, “I’m sure you understand that I’m a very busy man and taking out time from my business means I have to be very aware of just how long I’m away from my work, and very particular about whom I choose to converse with. I hope you have a lovely evening, Mrs - ah - Milton?”

“Miller,” Brenda corrects, and Jefferson cuts her off again.

“If you say so,” he says dismissively. “Good evening.”

Burr smiles with finality. There’s barely-concealed anger in Brenda’s face, but she seems to be unable to protest, and thankfully, she leaves. Burr holds his composure for about thirty seconds before he slumps forward with his forearms braced against the table.

“So I’m guessing you really don’t want to talk about any of that,” Jefferson begins.

“Very, very much no,” Burr agrees.

“One question?”

“If I absolutely can’t stop you.”

“Are you married?”

“No,” Burr says. Jefferson nods and there’s a certain satisfaction in his eyes at that, but Burr ignores it, and they sit for a moment in silence.

Finally Jefferson speaks. “I have an idea.”

“Shoot,” Burr says.

“This place is garbage. Let’s get takeout and go back to my place.”

Burr reaches across the table and squeezes Jefferson’s hand. “I’d like that,” he says.

Takeout turns out to be huge, sloppy burgers and way too many fries for either them of them to eat. They sit in Jefferson’s office in big armchairs, both freshly showered, close enough that their arms brush every so often. Jefferson chatters away, and Burr can drift.

He’s anxious and he knows Jefferson wants to ask a thousand questions. He’s grateful that none of those questions come up. He’s perfectly content to sit with his legs up on the same footstool Jefferson is using and eat his way through a burger that’s far too large and indulgent. It’s a week’s worth of calories at least and he finds he doesn’t really mind all that much.

Finally Jefferson drops a question, although it isn’t as bad as Burr was imagining. “Do I keep calling you Jamie, then?”

“Yes,” Burr says.

“Can I ask why?”

“I keep my personal life and work life separate. It’s safer for me that way. I mean, you already know my personal name now, so there’s not much to keep separate anymore.”

“Except -” Jefferson starts, but he cuts himself off.

“Except?”

“There was other stuff that nasty woman brought up -”

“I’d prefer to pretend that never happened,” Burr says. “We have our sessions, and Jamie is the person you know. After those sessions, Aaron goes home. No overlap.”

“Alright,” Jefferson says, but he sounds reluctant.

Burr bites. “You seem disappointed.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting to know Aaron,” Jefferson admits. “But I won’t push Jamie.”

Burr takes his hand. “Thank you for respecting my boundaries.”

Jefferson tosses a fry at him. “What, like I’m gonna be an asshole to you?”

“I wonder what that would be like?” Burr says, gazing off into space. “It’s never happened before, you’re incapable -”

Apparently the first fry was just an advance scout. Jefferson hurls more, and Burr tries to catch one in his mouth. It hits him just below his left eye. In self defense, he lunges out of his armchair and into Jefferson’s, straddling him and grabbing his wrists. Jefferson pretends to struggle in Burr’s grip.

“Help, I’ve been overpowered,” Jefferson laughs.

“Get ready for retribution,” Burr says. He leans forward and kisses Jefferson on the lips, and he tastes the burgers and he can’t help but laugh. It’s such a bizarrely juvenile moment - it’s the way kisses taste when you kiss your high school fling, or your college boyfriend, and it makes him feel young and vibrant.

Jefferson’s cock is already stirring and Burr encourages it, grinds against it, and he feels Jefferson’s lips slide sideways and suddenly he’s whispering, “Jamie, please - what you did last week -”

So Burr ghosts his fingers up Jefferson’s chest and rests his hand against his throat, circling around, a poor excuse for a collar but Jefferson bucks and groans.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me tonight?” Burr breathes against his ear.

“Mmhm,” Jefferson whines desperately.

“Stay,” Burr says, and he climbs off. Jefferson leans forward but Burr raises a hand and says forcefully, “did you hear me give you a command?”

“Mmhm -”

“Are you obeying?”

“Mm-mm,” is the soft response. Jefferson sits back, his eyes wide and desperate.

Burr takes his time digging through his bag for the collar he brought. “I got you something,” he says as he pulls out condoms. “Because you were _such_ a good boy for me last week, and I thought you deserved another surprise.”

Jefferson grunts in appreciation. Burr’s hands find the collar, wrapped in tissue, and he pulls it out, careful not to show Jefferson what’s in the package.

“On the floor, right here, my good boy.”

Jefferson obliges, sliding out of the chair and shuffling forward on his knees. He nuzzles at the package in Burr’s hands and Burr strokes a hand over his head to scratch at the tangle of hair at the base of his skull.

“Getting eager?”

“Mmhm,” Jefferson breathes, drawing it out.

“Beg nicely.”

Jefferson gently headbutts Burr’s hip and makes a whining noise, and his lips press against the fly of Burr’s pants, leaving frantic kisses in a gesture of supplication. It’s painfully endearing; Burr can’t resist anymore, so he unfolds the tissue and lets it fall away. Jefferson makes a deep sobbing sound at what Burr holds.

It’s a midnight purple collar, studded along the length with lavender rhinestones, and finished with a round black tag that simply reads THOMAS in block letters.

“Fuck,” Jefferson chokes out. Burr allows him to absorb what he’s seeing before buckling it around his neck, and Jefferson arches his back as the suede lining rubs against his neck.

“Part of knowing folks in the industry means you get really fast turnaround, sometimes, on custom orders,” Burr tells him, clipping a leash onto the collar and tugging it. “So when you’re a good boy I get to reward you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson breathes.

“Hush.”

Jefferson obeys. He follows Burr to the bedroom, directly at his heels like a well-trained puppy. He seems to anticipate each order Burr gives before it’s given. He sits on the bed in the same moment that Burr points to it, and his hands are working before Burr can even finish the command, “undress for me, but leave the underwear.” His whole body quivers eagerly, threatening to shake apart with anticipation; Burr can see it in the tension of his muscles, the way his abdomen clenches when he breathes, the tremor in his jaw. Every so often Jefferson will tilt his chin down until it makes contact with the metal closure of the collar, as if to reassure himself it’s still there.

Jefferson is made of hard lines and angles, his eyes fixated on Burr, sitting cross-legged on the bed in boxer briefs and his undershirt. Burr takes his time undressing; he unties his tie, folds it neatly, tucks it into a corner of his bag, and then methodically unbuttons his shirt. Each motion of his hands seems to make Jefferson move his hips a little, until he’s grinding openly, rutting his cock where it touches one heel.

“Stay,” Burr orders sharply. Jefferson huffs with disappointment, and Burr raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to be good?”

Jefferson whines softly.

“You know what happens if you’re good?”

Another soft whine.

“And what happens if you aren’t good? What happens if you don’t obey?”

A small sobbing noise ghosts past Jefferson’s lips.

“Exactly. So you wait -” Burr strokes the hard line of Jefferson’s cock with the pad of his thumb, dragging a strangled groan from Jefferson, and then kisses his forehead. “- and I’ll reward you.”

He resumes undressing, showing off with each motion. He exaggerates every movement; he makes a big display of adjusting his cock in order to take off his underwear, and Jefferson’s eyes fixate on it, his mouth half open.

“What do you want most, Thomas?” Burr purrs. “Do you want to suck this? Do you want me to eat you out? Or do you want to fuck me?”

Jefferson tilts his head.

“You can speak to answer my question.”

“Second and third,” he says, and suddenly he’s babbling. “But I want to touch you, Jamie, and I want you to touch me - please -”

“Please what?”

“Sir,” is what rolls off Jefferson’s tongue.

Burr obliges. He tugs the leash and Jefferson follows the pull on his collar until he’s lying face down on the bed. Burr slides his fingers into the waistband of Jefferson’s shorts and pulls them down and off. He spreads Jefferson’s legs wide, and he can see so much - the tight ring of his asshole, a nest of hair, the length of his cock, displayed against the bedspread instead of trapped beneath his stomach. It’s leaking freely and Burr swipes a finger through the bead of liquid at the tip.

“You want my tongue here?” he asks, rubbing the finger against Jefferson’s hole and pumping lube onto the fingers of his other hand. “You want me to lick this?”

“Mmhm,” Jefferson pants raggedly.

“You want me to eat you out?”

“Mm _-hm,”_ again, more emphatic this time.

Burr digs his fingers into the hard muscle of Jefferson’s ass, spreading him open, and licks a long, slow line up along the cleft, his tongue broad. He realizes suddenly he isn’t using a dental dam, but the noise Jefferson makes is otherworldly, and he decides - fuck it.

He makes a few more passes, a little firmer each time, and then concentrates the tip of his tongue on the ring of Jefferson’s asshole, tracing circles against it. He teases the edges, dips inward for a second, pushes in with his tongue, and returns to circling. Each new movement makes Thomas groan and buck and when he moves, the collar jingles, and before long Burr is hard and aching for contact.

Jefferson becomes pliant under him. His ass clenches every so often, but loosens after each contraction, and before long, Burr is fucking it with his tongue. He takes the time to finger his own ass open and stroke the lube on his hand deep inside himself.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and Jefferson whines. “Ready to fuck me?”

The noise that rips from Jefferson’s throat is inhuman - it’s a guttural growl, deep and desperate. Burr gives Jefferson’s asshole one final lick and swats one cheek with his hand.

“Upright,” he says. Jefferson complies, and he watches Burr with wide eyes as Burr climbs onto the bed and gets on his knees, his legs spread. He tests his ass with one hand; it’s open enough to take three fingers, so he tears open a condom and slides it onto Jefferson’s cock, stroking lube along it as he unrolls it.

“Mount,” he orders, turning around and propping himself on his hands and knees.

Jefferson doesn’t need any further prompting. He lines himself up against Burr’s ass and hunches his hips forward, his cock pushing against Burr’s hole, and it slides in as Jefferson moves with short, sharp thrusts. The roughness of it sucks the breath from Burr’s lungs and he groans, fighting for air as the head slips in and that thick cock sinks, inch by inch, inside of him.

Jefferson’s hands, curled like paws, rest on his hips, covering the tattoos on each side. Burr fumbles for the leash still hanging from the collar and jerks on it; Jefferson takes the message and starts fucking in earnest. There’s no build up, no rhythm; he simply drags his cock out and thrusts it back in, animalistic, rough, raw. Burr hears the growl building in Jefferson’s throat. He wraps a hand around his own cock, surprised to feel how hard it is.

“Keep fucking,” Burr gasps. “Good boy.”

He knows that if he keeps touching himself, he’ll come - and the cock in his ass will be so sensitive, almost unbearable, and suddenly he needs that overwhelming sensation. He needs to feel ravaged. He pumps himself hard and finds himself on the edge of tears as he spills his load on the duvet, and then the first wave of overstimulation hits, and the tears well up and fall. His arms collapse; he lays his cheek on the bed, his hips held up by Jefferson’s hands, and he grunts and moans and sniffles in ecstasy as Jefferson fucks him.

Jefferson takes long enough that Burr feels himself getting hard again and he starts jacking immediately. He knows he’s pushing himself too hard; he knows he’s making shitty choices and letting himself get carried away, but he can’t help it. He needs to let his thoughts disappear and the way Jefferson fucks him is euphoric.

He comes again, dry this time, the spasms exploding along his spine but no come spilling out, and then Jefferson is snarling and jamming his hips hard against Burr’s ass, and he can almost feel Jefferson’s semen in him. He wishes there was no condom. He wishes he was being claimed by this man, this ferocious, long-limbed beast. He wishes he could curl up and spend the night in his arms without questions of money or morality.

Jefferson’s lips are pressing against his back, leaving desperate kisses. He pulls out and Burr hauls himself upright long enough to throw himself into Jefferson’s arms, and they struggle for a moment to get comfortable, and then they’re collapsing together onto the bed and Jefferson is breathing words of affection into his ear. Burr lets them go past without really paying attention until -

“Aaron, that felt so good -”

They both go stiff with the realization of what just happened. Burr feels like his chest has been compressed.

“Jamie,” Jefferson corrects himself. “Jamie.”

“I’m glad it felt good,” Burr murmurs.

They cling to each other, but at the same time it feels like they’re pushing each other away. There’s a change in the atmosphere; Jefferson seems frightened. Burr eventually stirs and kisses the side of Jefferson’s throat.

“Want the collar off?”

“On, please,” he says, and he sounds almost shy.

“Alright. Good boy,” Burr tells him, and Jefferson hums with pleasure.

Burr closes his eyes, drifting in Jefferson’s arms. All of a sudden he feels himself being shaken; he opens his eyes blearily, his mouth fumbling out words that sound almost like, “was I asleep?”

“Your phone is ringing. It says Theo is calling,” Jefferson tells him.

Burr is upright immediately. He takes his phone from Jefferson’s hand and slams his finger on the screen.

“Hello?” he says into the phone, and there’s a long enough silence that he repeats, “hel--”

“Dad?” Theo’s voice is quivery.

“Yes, honey, I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“Daddy, can you come pick me up?” she asks.

“Yes, baby. Yes, I can come get you. I need you to wait a few minutes, okay?”

“I don’t wanna wait -”

“I know you don’t wanna wait, but Daddy’s at work, I need to get ready and then I can come get you. Okay? Can you wait for me?”

“I can,” she says. Her breath hitches and Burr hears her let out a long sigh, and her voice is steadier when she adds, “I can do it.”

“Good girl. You do your mindfulness, okay? Deep breathing. Keep working through it. Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay. That’s okay. You wait for me, baby. You got your games on your phone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Play a game and wait twenty minutes, half an hour tops, and I’ll be right there. I’m gonna hop in a cab. I’ll be so fast.”

“Okay,” she says, and she sounds like herself again, self-assured and confident.

“That’s my girl,” Burr says. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Theo says. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says. He drops his phone on the bed and hops up, talking furiously. “Thomas, I know I’m cutting things half an hour short, but she wouldn’t call me at work if it wasn’t an emergency. I need to go pick her up - I’ll give you an extra hour next time, if you like, to make up for it. Where’s my belt -”

Thomas picks his belt up from the floor. “You said you need a cab?”

“Yes, can you call me one?” Burr tucks his shirt in hastily, suddenly aware that he’s sweaty and sloppy and has no time to shower. “Do you have any wet wipes -”

“I can drive you,” Thomas offers.

Burr stops dead. “Drive me?”

“Was that your daughter?”

There’s no point in lying. “Yes.”

“Then if you’re worried about her there’s no point in waiting for a cab.” Jefferson is dressing now, hauling clothes on faster than Burr thought was possible. “I just need an address and I’ll take you right there. Do you think we need to get to a hospital?”

“She didn’t sound hurt, just scared. She would have called 911 if it was a medical emergency,” Burr says. “She’s very clever.”

“Okay.” Jefferson pulls a purple argyle sweater on over his shirt. “You ready?”

“Ready,” Burr says.

Thomas squeezes his hand. “It’ll work out fine, Jamie.”

Burr pauses for a moment, and then - “Aaron, please,” he says softly.

Jefferson smiles. “It’ll be fine, Aaron.”

Burr believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to that anon who commented on chapter two saying, and i quote: "either there's gonna be really fucking kinky stuff like, idk, sounding and petplay, in the tags or really sad shit"  
> you were right, buddy. mostly.
> 
> also shoutout to [bean](http://beansterpie.tumblr.com/) for giving me some Horrible Feels to insert. you are a treasure and the best fic buddy anyone could ask for.
> 
> comments and kudos fend off the wild beasts who eat my crops at night. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	6. I can take you there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo has a hard time. Thomas turns out to not be entirely useless in emergencies.

  1. _Pampering. I’d say let me wash your hair but that’s … gonna be … an issue._



  
  


Jefferson takes Burr out the back door and into a hallway behind his townhouse. He stops for a second, runs back inside, and then reappears, pressing a can of sparkling juice into Burr’s hand.

“You look super anxious and I think you might need a little energy,” he explains, locking up the back door. “At least that’ll give you a little sugar to get through it. You always seem really sleepy after our sessions.”

Burr is touched. He tucks his hand into Jefferson’s and says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The elevator to the garage below the buildings takes forever. Burr leans his head against Jefferson’s shoulder, grateful for the solid towering height of his body. He needs that strength beside him.

“Did she say what happened?”

“No, just that I had to come get her. She just texted the address - shit, it’s across town from our place - I’ll call a cab to get us home on the way.”

“Aaron, I’m already driving you there. I’ll drive you home,” Jefferson says, buzzing them out of the elevator and through into the garage.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Burr starts to protest.

“I’m not going to make you stand on a street corner with your daughter waiting for a car driven by a stranger. You know me, and my car is  _ very  _ nice, and it has heated seats, and we can turn on whatever music she likes and it’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Okay,” Burr says, “but let me pay you for gas.”

“If you give me gas money I’ll give you a bigger tip next time,” Jefferson threatens.

“Is there any winning against you?”

“No. I’m a fortress and my wit is an impassable wall. Get in,” he adds, gesturing at his car.

Burr sinks into the seats, grateful for the way it cradles him. He shows Jefferson the address and then closes his eyes and allows himself to fade as Jefferson drives. His focus is on his breathing; he slows it, deepens it, carefully analyzes his feelings. It’s almost impossible to let go of his anxiety. There are a thousand and one things that could have happened, but Burr knows most of them are terribly unlikely - he doubts, for example, that she broke all her limbs or fell out a window, that’s absurd - but some of them are  _ too  _ likely. He thinks about his own childhood, about the fights that came when he least expected it, plotting the galaxies of bruises he could feel forming on his skin after school, and his heart sinks with the sudden realization that maybe he hasn’t kept his daughter as safe as he thought.

“What do I call you in front of your daughter?” Jefferson asks.

“Aaron.”

“What do I call her?”

“Theo.”

“How much does she knows about your work?”

Burr draws in a breath. “She knows that I keep people company,” he says. “She knows I get paid very well. She doesn’t know I have sex with my clients. She doesn’t even know I kiss them. She hasn’t had sex ed beyond ‘this is a period’ and ‘don’t let strangers touch your private parts’ - she’s eleven.”

“Okay,” Jefferson says. “So you have dinner with me because I like your company. That’s it?”

“And we watch TV,” Burr adds.  
“And we watch TV. Got it. I mean, you aren’t lying.” Jefferson smiles. “Drink your juice, Aaron. Get some sugar in you.”

Burr complies. He pops the can open and sips, and suddenly realizes just how exhausted and anxious he is, and he takes a big swallow, reaching for Jefferson’s hand. Jefferson squeezes his fingers and they sit like that, holding hands over the console, Jefferson letting him think in peace.

Burr catches sight of a small yellow-clad figure sitting on the front steps of the apartment building as they pull up, and he refuses to believe what he’s seeing until he opens the door and he sees the child in yellow wave, and suddenly he’s  _ furious. _

“How come you’re sitting outside, baby?” he asks, half-jogging to where Theo sits.

“I didn’t wanna sit inside with everyone so Mrs Curtis said I could sit out here,” she says apologetically.

“By  _ yourself?”  _ is Burr’s incredulous response.

“Sorry, daddy,” Theo says guiltily. “I won’t do it again.”

“Honey, no I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at her. She can’t leave a  _ child  _ outside on the front steps in her pajamas, by herself, at night -” Burr cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “I want to go speak to her, okay, honey? Do you want to come with me?”

She nods. “I forgot my pillow.”

“Okay. Let’s put your backpack in the car and then we’ll go up, alright?” Burr picks up her pack and takes it to the car. He opens the door to toss it in the back seat, saying to Jefferson as he does, “I need to go speak to the woman upstairs. She left Theo sitting outside alone.”

“What?” Jefferson is, if possible, even angrier than Burr. “Look, if you need help screaming her out -”

Burr pauses and gives Jefferson a once-over at that. The man is well over six feet and built like a brick shithouse, and compared to Burr, who’s barely over five and a half feet, he’s an intimidating figure.

“Yes,” he says solidly.

So Jefferson turns the car off and hops out, and Theo, the moment she sees him, immediately realizes who this man is.

“You’re Purple Thomas,” she says, almost in awe.

Jefferson looks down at himself. “Well, if I’m Purple Thomas, you’re Yellow Theo.”

“These are my pajamas. They’re  _ supposed _ to be all one colour,” she counters, but there’s satisfaction in her voice.

She makes sure to walk between Burr and Jefferson up the steps to the apartment, and Burr feels her hand take his as he hits the buzzer for the Curtis unit. As he asks to come upstairs for Theo’s pillow he can’t help but notice her taking Jefferson’s hand as well.

Well, you could do worse for bodyguards, he reflects. And Jefferson seems to get along well with Theo; when she starts to complain about all the stairs up to the apartment, he picks her up and settles her on his shoulders, and Theo kicks her feet with delight, her heels thudding against Jefferson’s chest.

“You’re getting way too big to be sitting on people’s shoulders,” Burr says.

“Nonsense. I sat on people’s shoulders up until I was in my twenties and look how big I am now,” Jefferson declares. “I bet Theo’s gonna be a foot taller than you when she grows up.”

“I’m practically taller now,” Theo says triumphantly.

And the sight of Theo settled on Jefferson’s shoulders is certainly an asset when they knock on the Curtis’s door and Mrs Curtis answers. There’s a long moment as she absorbs the faces of two very disgruntled men and one smug child.

“Here’s her pillow,” Mrs Curtis says, and Burr takes it stonily. He’s steeling himself to tell her off when Jefferson does it for him.

“Are you aware that leaving a child outside, alone, at this time of night is child endangerment?”

“Excuse me?”

“You allowed a child to sit outside alone. No supervision. Anyone could have come along and taken her, and it would have been  _ directly _ your fault.”

“I thought it would be better if she wasn’t near the other children,” Mrs Curtis protests. Burr is satisfied to see that Jefferson is a full foot taller than her, and making use of his height to stare down his nose at her.

“Why?” Burr asks. It’s his first contribution to the conversation and he fills it with venom.

“They were teasing her,” is the woman’s apologetic response.

“Then it’s your responsibility to make sure they stop, isn’t it?” Jefferson asks. “I’d say every one of those children needs a talking to, and so do you.”

“Have a good night,” Burr says.

Mrs Curtis, red-faced, apologizes and disappears behind the door. Burr notices he’s shaking. Jefferson, however, seems full of energy; he bounces Theo on his shoulders, and Burr has to intervene, protesting, “do  _ not _ drop my child down three flights of stairs.”

“How about one?” Jefferson asks. He mimes picking Theo up and hurling her down the stairs, saying, “she’s young, children bounce.”

“I’ll make  _ you _ bounce,” Theo says. She’s trying to make her voice deeper, growlier, more intimidating, but she just ends up sounding like the Cookie Monster, and Burr has to stifle a laugh.

Jefferson carries Theo all the way to the car, and then pops the trunk and starts to put her in. When Theo protests he feigns surprise, asking, “since when does luggage talk?”

“I am not luggage!”

“Oh goodness, sorry, I thought you were just a big yellow bag.” Jefferson opens one of the back doors for her. “My mistake entirely. Please forgive me.”

“I have never heard you apologize  _ ever,” _ Burr tells him as they all settle in the car. “Buckled up, Theo?”

“Mmhm.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

There’s uncomfortable silence. Jefferson opens his mouth, but Burr puts a hand on his arm and he stays quiet. Finally, Theo squirms a little and says, “Vanessa Curtis said your job is illegal and that you could get arrested for it.”

“How does she know?”

“She said her dad knows cops and she can get him to tell on you, and that they’d put you in jail.” There’s tears now and Theo scrubs them away angrily with the back of her wrist.

“You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling,” Burr tells her. “Tell me what your feelings are.”

“Mad and sad,” she grunts.

“Anything else?”

“Scared,” Theo admits.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to get arrested,” she whispers.

Burr reaches back and offers his hand and Theo clutches it. His heart breaks. He remembers the way Theo, as a baby, clung to his fingers, ferocious, unstoppable; this determined child, the one who he fought so hard to keep, is terrified, and he can feel it in the way she clings to him. He wonders how long this has been happening, and how he failed to notice.

“I won’t get arrested,” Burr reassures her. “I’m going to sit down and talk to your teacher, and to all the parents of all the kids in your class, if I have to. I’ll make sure this gets straightened out.”

“How come everyone thinks what you do is so bad?” she asks.

Burr weighs his words carefully. “Sometimes people just don’t understand certain things,” he says. It’s vague, but he’s struggling to pin down words that explain it without getting too revealing. “Sometimes people think it’s bad to … to spend time with another person for money. They think that one person is taking advantage of the other. But it’s not. It’s not a bad thing if everyone is happy.”

“Your dad is right,” Jefferson says. “He spends time with me every Saturday and I really enjoy it. I know I’m a lot happier because I get to spend time with him.”

“So it’s like paying dad to be your friend,” Theo suggests.

“Yes. Exactly.”

“How come you don’t just do it for free? Then no one would be upset.”

“We also wouldn’t have a place to live,” Burr tells her. “That’s my job.”

“And your dad does such a good job that I’m happy to pay him for it,” Jefferson adds.

“Okay.” Theo still sounds doubtful, but she relaxes. Burr looks back and sees her shoulders going loose.

“How do you feel now?”

“Still mad and sad, but less. And I’m happy I get to see you tonight before I go to bed,” she adds.

“I’m happy I get to see you too, baby. What if we make hot chocolate when we get home and watch a movie? We’ll kick out all of Uncle Liam’s girlfriends,” Burr adds.

Theo giggles uproariously. “I wonder how he fits all those pretend girlfriends in our apartment,” she agrees. “Is Purple Thomas staying?”

Burr looks over. Jefferson is clearly waiting for permission.

“If he wants,” Burr says. “I guess he could stay for a couple minutes.”

“I’d be honoured,” Jefferson says, and somehow it sounds like he means it.

 

Burr texts Liam as they pull up to the building, asking him to unlock the door and warning him Thomas will be joining them for a little while. Liam texts back, a long string of messages that seem to be more focused on showing distress than making sense.

 

**Liam:  
** Are you KIDDING?

**Liam:  
** What was our ONE RULE WHEN WE GOT THIS PLACE

**Aaron:**  
Whoever uses the last condom has to go buy more?

**Liam:  
** It was NO IN CALLS

**Liam:  
** WE DON’T BRING WORK HOME

**Liam:  
** WHAT ARE YOU TELLING YOUR DAUGHTER

**Aaron:  
** She calls him Purple Thomas and she’s currently kicking her feet against his seat as he drives so I’d say she knows that I’m bringing him back with me

**Liam:  
** OHHHH MY GOOOOOD

**Liam:  
** WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

**Liam:  
** I’m not making him special hot chocolate

**Liam:  
** He gets the store bought garbage like any other scrub

**Aaron:  
** Are you jealous of my client, boo bear?

**Liam:  
** Eat an entire buffet of shit

 

Burr cracks up. Jefferson looks over as he parks, and Burr explains, “my roommate is … very colourful in his language sometimes.”

“What did Uncle Liam say?” Theo asks, bouncing in her seat.

“He asked why I’m like this.”

Theo nods solemnly. “That’s his favourite question.”

Jefferson barely has the car turned off before Theo has her seatbelt off and is hopping out of the car. Burr hands her his keys to open the building door.

“Don’t go running upstairs,” he says. “We still need to get in too.”

“If you forget I’ll just break the door down,” Thomas says, gathering Theo’s backpack and blanket from the back seat.

“No, no you will not, you are  _ not  _ doing that, I will have to pay approximately all the money to have it fixed. Theo, get your pillow,” Burr adds to his daughter, handing it to her. “You forgot this once already tonight and you aren’t forgetting it in Thomas’s car because you won’t get it back until it’s entirely purple.”

“That sounds kinda cool,” Theo says. Burr groans loudly.

“My life is plagued by purple,” he cries.

Burr is thankful for the elevator in their building until Theo informs Jefferson that he can jostle the elevator by jumping. Jefferson bends his knees and gets ready to jump and Burr smacks him on the stomach with the back of his hand.

“Theo, you can get away with that because you weigh ten pounds soaking wet. Thomas would sever the cables and we would fall into the basement, and that would be very unpleasant for everyone but you. You have a pillow. You’d be fine. We’d be applesauce.”

“Groooooss,” Theo grins.

“Exactly. Now be nice and stop encouraging our friend to destroy the building.”

Burr pretends not to notice the way Jefferson’s face lights up at that.

The second they’re out of the elevator Theo races ahead to be the first into the apartment. Burr takes that time to whisper to Thomas, “please don’t feel like you’re obligated to stay.”

“I’m enjoying myself,” he confesses. “I like your daughter. I’m sure I’ll like your roommate.”

Burr just laughs. “Sure you will.”

And then they’re at the door, and Liam is standing beside it, and Thomas seems to shrink a little.

They’re the same height, not quite six and a half feet, and while Thomas is lean muscle, Liam is huge. Liam is the kind of man who would do equally well as a weight lifter or the human personification of a boulder; he’s easily three hundred pounds, knotted arms covered in tattoos and crossed over his chest. His skin is rich brown and his eyes are so dark they’re almost black, and he makes a point of flexing his arms a little as he looks Jefferson over.

“You’re Thomas, then,” he says. His voice is a deep, intimidating growl.

“Yes,” Jefferson says, and to his credit, he doesn’t let any nervousness show in his voice. He offers a hand to shake. “You must be Aaron’s roommate.”

“You told him your name?” Liam asks, ignoring the hand entirely, and this question is directed at Burr. “Buddy, how many bad decisions are you going to make in one night?”

“All of them. And it wasn’t me who told him my name. Be nice, Thomas drove us home. Thomas, this is Liam, and he’s actually entirely harmless.”

Liam makes a noncommittal grunting noise.

“Good to know,” Thomas mutters.

“And now we’re coming inside,” Burr says insistently. “Liam, why don’t we make some hot chocolate? Thomas and Theo can pick a movie.”

Liam, thankfully, obliges. He leans sullenly against the counter in the kitchen as Burr pulls four mugs out of the cupboard above the coffee maker.

“So, care to tell me why you’re treating him like a boyfriend instead of a client?” Liam asks.

“He offered to drive me and Theo home. I’m not going to say no - that saves me cab fare, and also means less waiting, less time getting her home. She sounded really distressed, Liam. Did she call you? Because when she called me she was sobbing. And when my daughter calls me crying like that, there’s something very wrong. I’m not going to take any chances,” Burr says. “He’s been very kind to me tonight, and I would like it if we could be kind back. He’s been more than generous - you  _ know  _ he overpays me every time. Except for that one time at dinner he’s been nothing but good to me. So suck it up and at least  _ pretend  _ to be polite to the man who said  _ nothing  _ about me cutting our session short and refused to let me pay him back for it, and then took time out of his night to  _ bring our daughter home.” _

Liam is silent for a moment, absorbing all that. Finally he pulls cocoa powder and sugar out of the pantry and mutters, “alright, I’ll be nice, but you need to watch out, Aaron. You’re in  _ deep _ and you know that’s when you have to start looking at severing.”

“I’m not into him,” Burr protests.

“Sure,” Liam says. “Anyway, I decided he gets the good hot chocolate after all.”

“That’s a good decision, considering the store bought mix has been expired for six months,” Burr says.

Liam grins. “Well, he wouldn’t have had to know that, would he?”

 

Theo, with Jefferson’s help, has turned the living room into a nest of pillows. Liam and Burr have a rather impressive collection of floor cushions, a throwback to their poor college student days when having cushions on the floor was more important than having any other living room furniture aside from a futon, and they’re spread out into something akin to a mattress. Theo has also taken it upon herself to drag all the pillows and blankets off of everyone’s bed and toss them into the nest.

“Let me guess which one is yours,” Thomas says to Aaron, as he surveys the duvets on the floor. “The floral pink one?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Aaron chuckles. “No, that one’s actually -”

“Theo’s?” Thomas cuts in. Theo laughs uproariously.

“It’s Uncle Liam’s,” she says. 

Theo’s turns out to be yellow and printed with octopi; Aaron’s, unsurprisingly, is grey stripes. Thomas picks that one to roll himself into in a gross approximation of a burrito.

(Burr, for an instant, thinks he hears jingling as Thomas rolls, but he realizes he can’t be right. Jefferson’s keys are on the front hall table.)

“I don’t know what blanket I’m supposed to share,” Aaron announces; Liam is bundled up in his and Theo is hiding underneath hers, and he sits by himself in the middle of the pillow nest, pretending to be hurt. “No one will share with me and I’m freezing cold in this desolate empty wasteland -”

“This well insulated apartment, in the middle of spring,” Liam corrects.

“This well insulated desolate empty wasteland,” Aaron compromises. He’s about to start complaining again when Thomas unrolls and pulls Burr into the burrito with him.

“Now stop your whining. Rapunzel is leaving her tower and the frog is upset,” Thomas says.

“Chameleon,” Theo corrects groggily from under her blanket.

“Drink your hot chocolate before you pass out,” Liam tells her. Theo sits up and obliges but she seems to have a hard time staying upright. Yawning, she drains her mug and then settles herself across Thomas and Aaron’s legs.

Thomas seems taken aback for a moment, but he strokes Theo’s hair. Theo makes a sleepy noise of appreciation so he drags his fingers through her hair, gently unknotting the tangles, and Aaron and Liam both watch him work.

“We have similar hair,” Thomas says, almost sheepishly. “I know mine gets tangled a lot - part of leaving it long.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Liam says, and the gruffness is still there but there’s a small hint of warmth.

Thomas just smiles.

With Theo asleep, there isn’t really any reason to finish the movie, but the three of them sit through it anyway, slowly getting closer together until Aaron is propped between Thomas and Liam and feeling very much like how sandwich filling must feel. The combined warmth of his client and his roommate is soothing; Thomas is hard muscle and Liam is soft and cushiony, and both of them are solid and reassuring, and Burr feels his anxiety and tension release. Thomas rubs a hand up and down his back, working against the knots near his shoulders. It would be so easy, he thinks, to just sink into the feeling and fall asleep. The hand on his back slowly drifts upward until it’s scratching the stubble on his scalp. Burr can’t remember the last time anyone touched him like that.

“I knew she’d wind up with the thief,” Thomas mutters as the movie ends. “Like, it was so obvious from the beginning.”

“Congratulations,” says a sleepy Liam. “You successfully sleuthed the plot of a children’s movie. You are a genius. I am absolutely blown away by your perception abilities.”

“I know, it’s intimidating. It’s hard to be around men of genius such as myself. You have every right to feel a little inferior,” Thomas says.

“Don’t be an ass,” is Burr’s drowsy interjection. Thomas presses a kiss to the top of his head; Liam averts his eyes and, thankfully, refrains from commenting.

The hardest part of having a pillow nest is getting out of it. Burr stands and finds himself stumbling a little.

“My legs are totally numb. Liam, can you put Theo in bed?” he asks.

Liam picks up Theo and her duvet. “Night, Thomas,” he says, cradling Theo like a doll against his chest. “I’ll be in there with her for a while - she gets disoriented if she wakes up in a different place than where she fell asleep - so I’ll just say now it was a pleasure meeting you ‘cause I won’t be back out by the time you go.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” Thomas says.

Burr walks him to the door. “Are you awake enough to drive?” he asks, and Thomas seems to know the next question on his lips because he cuts Burr off.

“Don’t ask me to stay, Aaron. You aren’t awake right now and I think both of us know that’s not a good idea.”

“Oh,” Aaron says. “Yes, you’re right.”

“I’ll text you to let you know when I’m home safe, though, if you like?”

“Yes, please.” 

They stand awkwardly for a moment at the door, and then Thomas hugs Aaron. Burr melts against the solidity of Jefferson’s chest and closes his eyes. “I know things seem really fucked right now,” Thomas whispers in his ear, “but everything can be fixed. Okay? Let me know if you need help with things. Anything you need.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” Burr mumbles.

They part and Thomas walks out the door. He pauses, facing the elevator, then turns back.

“Night, Aaron,” he says. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Night, Thomas,” Aaron says. “Love you.”

Shit -

Thomas’s eyes go wide.

Burr can’t quite catch his breath. “Goodnight,” he repeats, this time a little more forcefully. Thomas nods and bites his lip and Burr closes the door. He stands for a moment, leaning his forehead against it.

“Okay, what the fuck,” he says.

He grabs his duvet from the floor on his way to bed. It smells like Jefferson.

 

Half an hour later he gets a series of texts.

 

**Thomas:  
** Just got home

**Thomas:  
** I have a secret

**Thomas:  
** I think you deserve some dirt on me since 

**Thomas:  
** Well

**Thomas:  
** Anyway

**Thomas:  
** I was wearing the collar the whole time

 

Burr laughs far too loud.

 

**Aaron:  
** Jesus

**Thomas:  
** Yeah

**Aaron:  
** That’s about the strangest thing you could have been doing tonight

**Thomas:  
** I can’t argue with that

**Aaron:  
** Goodnight, Thomas.

**Thomas:  
** Night, Aaron. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another shout out to [bean](http://beansterpie.tumblr.com/) for the plot point around theo. you're the best
> 
> comments and kudos are my nest of pillows. please make me comfortable. come chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	7. I think that you could do better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson fucks up big time.

  1. _Maybe restraints. But super light. This one can be easy to overdo. Maybe once we get to know each other first._



 

On Tuesday, Theo’s teacher calls Burr. He recognizes that it’s the school’s phone number, but he isn’t prepared for what he hears when he picks up.

“Mr Burr?” The voice in his ear is nasal and sharp.

“Speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

“I’m Ms. Wilson, your daughter’s teacher. It’s getting towards the end of the year now and I’ve had some worries throughout the school year about her home life. I sent home a letter a couple weeks ago and I’ve heard no response.”

“I didn’t think I needed to dignify unfounded accusations with a response,” Burr says coolly. “What exactly is it that you assume I do?”

“I hesitate to say -”

“Then don’t,” Burr says. “If you can’t even say it then you must know how inappropriate it is that you’re accusing me of it. If you want to claim that I’m a bad father you are more than welcome to do so, but I have a good steady job and I provide my daughter with an excellent living. Does she show any signs of being mistreated at home?”

“No, but -”

“Does she show any signs of abuse or neglect?”

“Well, no -”

“So the worst you can come up with is that I live with another man - who, by the way, treats her like he’d treat his own child - and that you have some suspicion that I may be doing some vaguely shady thing that may or may not be illegal. You can’t even  _ name _ what I’m doing -”

“Are you a prostitute, Mr Burr?” she cuts in.

Burr feels his face go warm. “No,” he says. “Is that all?”

“For now,” the teacher says. “I still have concerns but I’ll let them rest. Good day.”

He doesn’t give her any kind of response. He simply hangs up. Liam looks up from his book and asks, “what the fuck was that?”

“Theo’s teacher,” Burr explains. “It’s noon - she must be calling while the kids are having lunch or something. She used the P word.”

“Disgusting,” Liam chimes in.

Burr grunts in agreement. “I bet you she’ll pull Theo aside this afternoon and grill her about my work.”

It turns out that was a safe bet. When Burr picks up Theo from school, she’s obviously been crying.

“I told her about Purple Thomas,” she says apologetically, clinging to Burr’s hand as they walk.

“That’s okay, baby,” Burr says. “Tell me what you told her.”

“Um, I said that you have dinner and be his friend for money. And I told her that he came over and we watched a movie together, and that he’s really nice. And she asked if you do anything that moms and dads do together with him, so I told her I’m not a  _ baby _ and I know what  _ sex _ is, and that you  _ don’t. _ I told her that you just spend time with him and he said you’re good at keeping him company, and that he has a nice car and he carried me on his shoulders. And that’s all,” she says. “No, wait, one more thing. I said he’s really tall and that Vanessa Curtis’s mom was unfair to me so he told her off, and I told her I was being bullied. She didn’t really care about that last part,” Theo confesses.

“You did a good job with all of that, honey. I know it’s not fair that you’re being bullied and she doesn’t care. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Yeah. Vanessa Curtis keeps saying she’s gonna get her dad to have you arrested and I’ll have to go live in a home with all the other kids no one cares about.” She pulls a face. “But I don’t want to live without you.”

“It won’t happen. I promise.” Burr squeezes her hand.

“Dad? What if something does happen to you? Who will take care of me?”

“Uncle Liam. When your momma passed we made him your godfather. But nothing will happen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Theo says. She already seems steadier. Burr loves watching her compose herself; she does her deep breathing methodically, holding herself tall and proud. She shares her father’s strong jaw and when she’s feeling angry or inconvenienced, it sets in a certain way that Burr can see now.

“I’m very proud of you,” he tells her, overcome with love for this girl who is growing into a remarkable young woman.

“Thanks, dad,” she says. “I feel angry at Ms Wilson, but I feel safe when I get to talk to you about it.”

“I feel happy that you feel safe with me, and I feel sad that the other kids are being mean to you. I’ll go in and talk to the principal, okay?”

“Okay,” Theo agrees placidly.

Burr buys her a milkshake on the way home. He figures she’s earned it.

The rest of the week becomes structured around treats. Going to school is no longer enjoyable for Theo, so Liam and Aaron make a point of giving her things to look forward to every afternoon. On Wednesday, they take her out for high tea at a fancy teahouse; Theo is declared the table queen, much to Liam’s disappointment, and outfitted with a tiara to wear as she spreads clotted cream on tiny scones.

“We should do this every Wednesday,” she says as they leave.

“That’s debatable. Maybe once every couple months,” Burr tells her.

Thursday is the zoo, where Theo spends an hour just watching the red pandas trundle around their enclosure.

“The fences are so little,” she says. “How come they don’t just leave?”

“I don’t think they want to,” Liam tells her. “If you were a red panda you’d probably love it in there. Lots of food, great napping places, sunny spots …”

“I think they’re just too fat to climb up,” Burr suggests.

“As the resident fat guy, I concur,” Liam says. “Well, red pandas are tiny pandas, right? I’m probably, like, the alpha red panda -”

“Red pandas aren’t really pandas which means they aren’t even  _ bears,”  _ Theo says scathingly.

“You are  _ not _ the father,” Burr adds in his best Maury impression.

Friday is movie night and then dinner out. Theo begs and wheedles for an entire pizza to herself.

“You will not be able to finish an entire pizza. It’s bigger than you,” Burr says.

“Cool uncle intervening. You get your pizza, girl, big as you want,” Liam cuts in. “What do you want on it?”

“Sausage and olives. Lots of olives.”

“An entire jar of olives,” Liam agrees.

“A mountain of olives!” Theo crows.

“Disgusting,” Burr says, smiling at them over his cranberry and soda. Liam and Theo have been colouring the two kid’s menus they demanded, and as Burr watches, Theo carefully colours in Liam’s nails with a pink crayon.

“Chic,” Liam praises her.

“I should be a nail person,” Theo agrees. “Dad, what colour do you want your nails?”

Burr opens his mouth and Theo and Liam both chorus with him, “Grey.”

Liam drives them all home from dinner, and Burr texts Jefferson in the car.

 

**Aaron:  
** Still on for tomorrow?

**Thomas:  
** When have I ever said no to you?

**Thomas:  
** Of course we’re still on

**Thomas:  
** Dinner beforehand again?

**Aaron:  
** Yes, if you can guarantee no more awful soccer moms

**Thomas:  
** I’ll bring my soccer mom repellent. Brasserie les Halles at 7?

**Aaron:  
** You’re the best. See you tomorrow night.

**Thomas:** **  
** <3

 

Burr makes another Macy’s trip on the way and decides, fuck it, he may as well just buy a bunch of purple ties. He goes through the selection, picking up anything that looks half-decent; there’s another paisley, this one completely purple, and a black tie patterned with purple elephants. After a moment’s hesitation, he indulges and picks up one striped in white, grey, purple and pink. He can afford to build up a collection, he tells himself; Jefferson seems bent on keeping him around, and he can afford to indulge the man. The tips alone cover the cost of however many ties he wants to buy.

Brasserie les Halles turns out to be an uncomfortably upscale French restaurant. Burr is suddenly very grateful that he chose to dress in a black suit; he ties the paisley tie while standing outside, tucks the other two ties into his messenger bag, and adjusts his jacket before walking in.

Thomas is sitting at a table in the middle of the restaurant and back in his arrogant sprawled posture. Burr steels himself for another bizarre night - that body language can only mean contrariness - as he approaches the table.

“Thomas,” he says warmly.

“Aaron,” Jefferson replies. Burr wants to correct him, but the damage was done the week before; there isn’t much point now. “I don’t see any blonde harpies anywhere around tonight,” Jefferson continues, “so I think we’re safe.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. If I didn’t shave my head I’d be a natural blond,” Burr says.

“I knew it! You have that ‘let me speak to a manager’ attitude about you.” 

Burr wonders if Jefferson knows just how hard it is for him  _ not _ to point out that he is the personification of the ‘let me speak to a manager’ attitude. Tonight, however, Jefferson seems a little more subdued; there’s a falseness in the bravado that wasn’t there before.

“I wanted to thank you properly for everything you did for me last Saturday,” Burr says, as Jefferson glances over the wine menu.

“You don’t have to do anything. It was thanks enough to spend time with you,” Jefferson tells him.

“You were so kind, though.”

“I like taking care of people,” Jefferson says. “I don’t get to do that much.”

“Considering how you were with Theo, I’m surprised you don’t have kids of your own,” Burr says.

Thomas stiffens. Burr immediately scrambles for damage control.

“At least, I assumed you didn’t have any.”

“I don’t,” Jefferson says. His voice is cold.

It’s then that the server approaches, and Jefferson whips his head around ferociously. Burr cringes a little.

“Can I get either of you gentlemen something to drink?”

The poor man is so oblivious.

“Yes. Last time I was here I asked for a cab sav and was recommended an absolutely abysmal merlot as an alternative because the sommelier said that was the only half-decent red available. I’d like a real cabernet sauvignon tonight, no substitutes, preferably from a Bordeaux winery, no Napa Valley garbage. And believe me, I can tell the difference,” Jefferson finishes with a haughty air.

“Yes sir, I’ll ask the sommelier’s recommendation. And for you?” The server, apparently entirely unperturbed, turns to Burr.

“Grapefruit juice and soda, thank you,” he says.

“Very good. I’ll give you a moment with the menus.” The server leaves, the swagger in his step entirely undented.

_ Take me with you, _ Burr contemplates screaming.

“Anyway, no,” Jefferson continues. His voice is flat. “No kids. I never had a chance. More’s the pity, isn’t it? No tiny humans to fuck up.”

“Thomas, I didn’t mean to open any wounds. I’m sorry for bringing that up. Would you like to change the subject?” Burr asks.

Jefferson stares at him levelly for a moment. “You know, I never asked about your situation. Why is it that you have a daughter and a roommate, but no partner? Does your roommate know what you do?”

“Yes, considering he’s in the same line of work,” Burr says.

“What about Theo’s mom? Does  _ she  _ know?”

“She did, yes.”

“Is that why she isn’t in the picture? How do you wind up with custody when you’re whoring instead of getting any kind of real work? What kind of example does that make for your daughter?”

“I take care of her,” Burr cuts in, his voice hard, “because you can’t give custody to a dead woman. And if you take issue with my job, Thomas, why do you hire me to do it for you?”

“I’m not the one doing the work. I have sex with precisely one person right now, and that’s it. I’m not spreading my legs for anyone who throws enough money at me -”

“I am leaving the restaurant. If you would like to change how you’re speaking to me, I’ll have my phone on. Otherwise, I’m going to go home and spend the evening with people whose company I actually enjoy.” Burr stands. He pauses a moment, then digs a wrapped package out of his bag and throws it down on the table. “I got you a present. Enjoy.”

He turns to leave and Thomas grabs his arm.

“Wait, Aaron - look, I didn’t mean any of that -”

“Yes, actually, you did. Or you wouldn’t have said it. I’ll be outside when you’re ready to apologize properly,” Burr tells him.

Jefferson falters. “What, you don’t want dinner?”

“Not with you. Let go of my arm.”

“Just sit down and have some food and we can talk about this, I’m sorry -”

“Last chance,” Burr says. “If you want me to even think about listening to your apology, you’ll let go of my arm and let me go outside. Otherwise I will consider this the termination of our professional relationship and cancel all appointments forthcoming, and then I’ll permanently block your number. I am not having this argument with you here, in this restaurant, with you behaving like a child.”

It takes Jefferson a moment, but he releases Burr’s arm. Burr pushes his chair neatly under the table and adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“I’m going across the street and having coffee,” he tells Jefferson. “If you’re there within half an hour we can talk about this. Otherwise I’m going home.”

Jefferson is silent.

“Do you understand?” Burr prompts.

“I understand,” Jefferson says darkly.

“Good,” Burr says, and he leaves.

The little restaurant across the street turns out to have somewhat decent coffee. Burr orders a brownie sundae as well, and he sits, sipping black coffee and watching the ice cream on his dessert plate melt into a puddle. There’s a mint garnish on the plate; he picks it up and puts it in his mouth, nibbling idly and letting the cool tingle across his tongue. It’s a good distraction from the twisting in his stomach. Burr concentrates on slowing his breathing and tasting the mint.

He’s just succeeded in ridding himself of his anxiety when Jefferson walks in. Immediately he feels his heart speed up, and his breathing grows shallower.

Jefferson sits across from him at the table. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” Burr says. He keeps his face carefully blank.

“Look, I know what I said was supremely fucked up,” Jefferson begins.

“Here’s a question,” Burr says. “Is that what you really believe about my work? Is that how you really feel?”

Jefferson is silent.

“I see,” Burr says.

“I was … raised with very traditional values,” Jefferson tells him. “And I know this isn’t an excuse, but there were some things I was taught were just, you know, not okay. Seeing another man in this way, that was one of them. And another one was, you know, prostitution.”

“Sex work,” Burr corrects. “Prostitution is what cops call it.”

“Sex work,” Jefferson agrees. “Okay. And I’ve addressed the first once since I was married, but -”

“You were married?”

“Yes. She passed two years ago.”

Burr reaches across the table and takes Jefferson’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. Anyway, I haven’t addressed the second one. I should have before I even thought of hiring you. You’re right - I’ve had this double standard around paying you to do these things for me, and what I was doing before was pretending there weren’t any other clients.”

“Which you know, of course, is absolutely false,” Burr prompts.

“Well, yes. I mean, you must have other clients,” Jefferson says. “But I kept thinking - you know, since I’ve gotten to know you, and gotten to like you - I thought maybe if I was good enough I could get you out.”

“Get me out?” Burr asks.

“Like, rescue you, I guess -”

Burr can’t hold in a laugh. “Thomas, why do you think you  _ need _ to rescue me?”

Jefferson looks confused. “What, is that wrong? Then you wouldn’t have to do this anymore -”

“You may rescue me from my career if you let me rescue you from yours,” Burr says flatly. “I don’t need to be rescued from sex work. You don’t need to be rescued from liquor licensing. I love my job, Thomas. I love what I do. And if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you need to understand that I don’t intend to quit my job, at all. At least not for another few years. Maybe when I’m closer to forty I’ll consider it. And yes, one day I’ll have to tell Theo the extent of what I do, and maybe that will sway my choices. But right now, I’m happy. I love my life, I love my clients, and I love the satisfaction I give people. I  _ love _ this. I’m not quitting for you or any other man who wants to ride in on a stallion and sweep me off my feet.”

“So you wouldn’t quit,” Jefferson says.

“Absolutely not. If that’s what you’re hoping for you need to give that idea up right now.”

There’s a pause, and then Jefferson says, in a soft voice, “so if you and I were to, you know, be together -”

“I wouldn’t quit for you.” Burr says this more quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because this is my job. I’ve been doing it for as long as Theo’s been around - before that, even. I’m not going to change my whole career.”

“So even if you were in a relationship?”

“I have been in relationships, and in every single one, I’ve kept working.”

“And were your partners okay with that?”

“My wife was,” Burr tells him. “Not at first, but eventually, she was. It paid our bills. And then when she passed, I had something to do with my time and a way to provide for our daughter. Any partner who wasn’t okay with it left pretty fast. That’s how I prefer it.”

“Okay,” Jefferson says. “Okay.”

“So if you’re going to ask what I think you’re going to ask -”

“I was going to,” Jefferson says.

“You can ask, and you know how I’ll respond, but I won’t quit for you.”

“I said ‘was,’ Aaron. Past tense.”

“Oh.”

He lets go of Jefferson’s hand.

“Maybe,” Jefferson says, and then he pauses. “Maybe we should cancel tonight.”

“If you want,” Burr says, trying not to sound disappointed.

“And maybe we should … cancel from now on. Considering how I feel, and how things are -”

“If that’s what you think is best,” he says. He can’t help the catch in his voice.

“It’s easier to make a clean break, Aaron. I mean, I can’t … I want to be part of your life but if I know I have to share you, I can’t do it. I know I’m too jealous, I know it would hurt. It’s taking a lot of restraint to say this, not to just dive into it -”

“I know,” Burr says.

“I think this is probably easiest. That way we don’t get hurt.”

Burr laughs.

“Alright,” Jefferson amends. “Less hurt than if we moved forward.”

He offers the wrapped package back to Burr. Burr refuses. “Keep it,” he says. “You can use it in the future with the person you deserve.”

Burr pays the bill and they leave. Standing outside the restaurant, they link hands. Jefferson, bizarrely, starts laughing.

“This is the weirdest breakup I’ve ever had,” he says in response to Burr’s questioning glance.

“I’m glad you’re amused, at least.” Burr smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

They hug. Burr presses his face against Jefferson’s chest and breathes in one final time. He’s the first to drop his arms; Jefferson doesn’t seem to want to let go.

“Bye,” Burr says, turning away.

Jefferson raises a hand and gives him a little wave. “Bye, Aaron,” he says.

 

**Thomas:**  
You got me cuffs?

**Aaron:**  
Full restraint system, actually

**Aaron:  
** Matches the collar

**Aaron:  
** I hope you get good use out of that. Don’t forget safewords.

**Thomas:  
** I don’t know anyone besides you that I’d trust enough to use this with

 

Burr turns off his phone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos shield me from the rain of disappointment i know is coming from regular readers. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	8. I'm a disaster waiting to happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan for the Burrs. Aaron may have a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter: mentions of rape threats and very severe bullying. it's nothing too in-depth but absolutely do be careful if that's your trigger.

_ I guess that’s all there is to my kink list? Maybe we’ll figure out more stuff along the way! Who knows. _

 

Burr keeps himself busy. It’s easier, that way, to forget Jefferson, and his annoying purple outfits, his ridiculous laugh, his growling voice. If he doesn’t let himself dwell he can push away the way it felt to cuddle in his arms after sex and watch trashy TV. He can push away the thought of all those cans of sparkling juice in his fridge.

Sometimes he catches himself wondering who will drink them.

Theo and Liam rally around him. He finds it easier to bury himself in keeping Theo busy, but once Theo goes to bed he mopes, and Liam can’t always drag him out of it.

“Let’s trash him,” Liam offers one night.

“No,” Burr tells him.

“It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t feel right about it,” Burr says firmly.

“Suit yourself,” Liam says. “But we  _ are _ going to cuddle, and that’s  _ not  _ negotiable.”

He finds himself, as the days go by, less and less able to sleep alone at night. He sneaks into Liam’s bed and sleeps there, curled up beside his roommate. He likes feeling small next to Liam’s bulk.

The days crawl by; Theo comes home from school looking upset almost every day. Burr makes endless calls to the principal. It doesn’t seem to change anything. The kids harassing her are tireless. Eventually Burr can only offer Theo the same useless advice he was given back in his middle school days.

“Ignore them and let it roll off,” he tells her.

“But it  _ hurts,”  _ she says.

“I know, honey, but you don’t have to let them see. You keep a straight face and let it go, then come home and we’ll talk about it. Okay? Bring a notebook to school and keep it with you to write down feelings.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

It works, for a couple weeks. Then the notebook is stolen and pictures of the contents are passed around on Facebook and suddenly Theo is outright refusing to go to school. Burr can’t help but feel that that was all his fault.

Liam and Burr talk and agree to keep her home for a week. Two days in, Theo hands Burr her cellphone and says, “I don’t want this anymore.”

So Burr looks through it, and the texts are disgusting. The language that’s being used is bad enough, but some of the things kids come up with -

_ your dads a whore and so are you _

_ give you $5 if you suck me off _

\- are deeply horrifying, and all of a sudden Burr comes across a rape threat, a rape threat sent to his  _ eleven year old daughter _ , and he puts the phone down and backs away, his fingers numb and his head buzzing.

He and Liam call the school and arrange a meeting with the principal and with Theo’s teacher, and Burr feels his stomach twist into knots when Ms Wilson says to him, “we’ve been wanting to sit down and meet with you for a while. We’re very concerned.”

They schedule for Friday afternoon.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Burr and Jefferson last spoke.

 

Burr is immediately and painfully aware of how little the school respects him when he shows up and there is only one chair for him and Liam in the principal’s office.

“I did tell you both of us would be attending,” Burr says.

“Unfortunately we only really recognize the right to the parent’s authority when it comes to these meetings. It must have slipped my mind,” the principal, a man named Benson, drawls.

“Liam is Theodosia’s godparent and heavily involved in her home life. I’d appreciate if he could also be part of this discussion,” Burr says firmly.

There’s a substantial delay while Benson sends his assistant to fetch another chair, and all the while Ms Wilson is glaring at the two of them. Her eyes fixate on Liam’s tattoos, dart between Liam’s and Aaron’s faces, and then return to the tattoos, and her mouth slowly draws into a disapproving line.

Finally the four of them are settled. Benson tents his fingers on his desk and leans forward. “So we asked you to come in due to concerns about Theodosia’s safety,” he begins, but Burr cuts him off.

“Actually,  _ I  _ called  _ you. _ Because I’m concerned about my daughter’s safety. Are you aware that students in your school are sending her rape threats?”

“I’m going to need to see proof of that.”

Burr pulls out Theo’s cell and opens the message in question, and Liam puts a sheaf of papers on the desk. “We have the originals on the phone as well as printed records. You can keep the records; we have copies, and we’re debating bringing them to the police,” Liam says.

“Do you really want to involve the police?” Ms Wilson says smugly, and Burr freezes.

“Why wouldn’t I, if my daughter is being threatened with assault?” His lips are numb.

“Well, we took the liberty of digging back into your records, and there’s evidence that you’ve been investigated by child protective services before -”

“Back when my wife died, and I was very young. There was worry that I was too young to take care of Theo, but I proved I could do it and everything was dismissed,” Burr interjects. 

Wilson continues as though he hadn’t said anything. “And considering your history with CPS, as well as my concerns about the morality of your professional life, I think contacting the police would be a  _ very  _ bad idea -”

Burr is shaking. “You’d threaten to orphan my daughter because you can’t accept that a child in your school is threatening to take her out behind the gym and  _ rape her? _ Are you aware of how fucked up that is?” He’s on his feet, and Liam his holding his arm, chanting his name softly, struggling to make him sit. Burr slams his hands on the desk. “What kind of fucked up priorities do you have that your bizarre and unfounded suspicions about my job are more important than making sure a child doesn’t get assaulted?”

“We can say with utmost certainty that the boy who sent that text is not in earnest,” Benson begins. Burr cuts him off.

“So you’re willing to risk my daughter’s safety because you think that boy is joking? You’ll gamble on that?”

“Are we the ones risking your daughter’s safety, Mr Burr?” says Benson. “Or are you? You’re displaying right now that you’re a danger when angered and I think that compromises Theodosia’s ability to grow up in a secure home.”

Burr can’t speak to respond. He shakes violently, his hands clenched so hard that his nails dig into his palms and draw blood.

“What do we need to provide you with so that you back off,” Liam says. His voice is ragged with exhaustion.

“I need proof of some kind of employment that isn’t prostitution,” Wilson says. “By the end of next week, or I’m calling. I won’t allow a child to be raised in those conditions.”

Burr is suddenly thankful that he can’t speak, because the words hovering in his throat would certainly be grounds for calling the police. He allows Liam to stand and lead him out of the school. 

They meet Theo on the playground. Burr can’t bring himself to say anything. He feels anger pulsing through him, and he finds his proprioception is off; he keeps stumbling because he can’t judge where his limbs are next to the ground. Liam ends up putting an arm around his waist and guiding him to the car.

“You okay, dad?” Theo asks, taking his hand. Burr nods numbly.

He finds himself drifting in and out of awareness. Escape plans flit through his head, each more ridiculous than the last. They could take Theo and move to Alaska - or Canada - or England, fuck it, or Australia, or the moon, where no one can touch her and no one can threaten her. They could disappear. Go ghost. They could fake their deaths, go live in the woods, burn down the school -

Burr doesn’t remember getting out of the car, or getting in the elevator, or walking into the apartment. He doesn’t remember Liam leading him to his bedroom but suddenly he’s sitting on his bed, staring at the framed picture of Theo’s mom on the nightstand.

“I fucked up, kitten,” he tells the picture. “I got careless.”

He can imagine the disdain in Theodosia’s eyes. He touches the points on his hips where his tattoos are, where her hands used to rest when they danced, when they fucked, when they cuddled.

“I can’t lose her,” he says.

The picture stares back mutely.

There’s a favour he can call in, maybe - someone who wouldn’t mind helping him, if he plays his cards right. He knows what he can offer, but -

“Liam,” Burr yells. His voice cracks and he’s suddenly frightened at just how desperate he sounds.

Liam comes rushing into the room. “Are you okay?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes. Take Theo out for a couple hours, okay? I don’t want her here for what I need to do.”

“Jesus, Aaron, I know things are bad, but they aren’t  _ that  _ bad, reconsider -”

“I’m not going to do anything to myself,” Burr says insistently. “I need to make a phone call.”

Liam stares at him. “Promise me?”

“Promise.”

“Okay, but Jesus, if you’re dead when I get back, I will  _ kill  _ you.” Liam kisses the top of Burr’s head. “I love you bunches. Two hours, okay? Text me if you need anything.”

“Love you too,” Burr says woodenly. He waits until he hears Liam and Theo leave the apartment to dial.

It rings four times and then the line goes dead and disconnects. Burr feels emotion well up and he can’t force it away this time; it’s resting just below his throat, tight in his chest, and if it rises any further it will choke him. He finds himself moving jerkily, like his limbs are unoiled machinery. 

He has to try again - he can’t hold himself back as he hits the call button again. Four rings and disconnect - and he hits the button again. And again. And again. Each time it rings through he feels the panic rise, and before he knows it he’s called twenty-seven times and his breath is rasping in his throat.

Thomas picks up on the second ring of the twenty-eighth call. “Aaron?” he asks. He sounds distant and distracted.

“Thomas,” Burr gasps. “Listen, I need a favour.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Theo’s school called, they need proof I have a job, and my freelancing isn’t recent enough or reliable enough, I need an employment record - you own your company, look, I know it’s fraud but please, please, give me a cover job. You don’t even need to pay me, just put my name on the company roster or whatever, I don’t care, I just need proof.”

There’s the sound of typing and shuffling. Burr is about to start talking again when Jefferson responds, finally, “what would you do for it?”

“Oh my God,” Aaron bursts. Suddenly he’s screaming. “I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll stop seeing any other client, I’ll just fuck you, I’ll do it for free for a year - for two years - as often as you want, as long as you want, I’ll do anything, I’ll come to the office every day and get under the desk and suck you off, I’ll do illegal shit, I’ll do fucked up shit, I can get you anything you want, if you want drugs I can find drugs, I don’t care, whatever you want, you can fuck me up, you can hurt me, just please don’t let them take my daughter, don’t let them take her away -”

“Aaron!” Jefferson bellows into the phone. Burr draws a ragged, shuddering breath, and then he’s sobbing so hard he can barely choke air into his lungs. 

“Please, Thomas, please, don’t let them take my daughter away,” he’s sobbing, and Thomas is speaking.

“I’m not going to. Aaron, fuck, calm the fuck down, relax, I meant what kind of  _ job _ would you want -”

And then Burr is just crying harder, and he sinks down on the bed, lying on his face and crying with relief. “Oh my God,” he sobs, fighting for air. “Thomas, oh my God.”

“Aaron, I’m coming over. I’m going to come over and we’ll work this out,” Thomas says, his voice steady. Burr closes his eyes and sinks into it.

“Okay.”

“I’m driving there, I’m getting my stuff and I’m leaving the office right now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“Okay,” Burr breathes.

“Okay. We’ll fix this, I promise. Keys are in my hand, I’m going down the stairs so I don’t lose you in the elevator. I’m staying on the phone. Is Theo okay?”

“They’re gonna call CPS, they’ll call the cops,” Burr chokes out.

“Fuck them. The fuckers. I’ve never seen a kid as happy and well adjusted as Theo, you’re a great fucking dad. They don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“They’ve come before -”

“Okay, so that makes things trickier. But even if they do come, you’ll have an official job, you have a great house, I’ll be your reference, I’ll dig up other references for you. I’ll pay them if I have to.”

“Thomas -”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“Please don’t go,” Burr manages, and there’s so much more that he wants to say, but his throat closes up and he’s sobbing again.

There’s the sound of a car beeping, a door opening, slamming shut, and ignition. “I’m not going anywhere, Aaron. I’m right here. You’re on speakerphone, okay? Phone’s in my lap, I’m driving. I’m leaving the garage, I’m on my way to you.”

“Please don’t go,” Burr repeats.

“I’m not going.”

“Please don’t go -”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving again.”

“Okay.” Burr draws a shuddering breath. He finds it very difficult to open his eyes.

“You still there?”

“Mmhm.”

He hears the sounds of Thomas driving, cursing softly to himself, and he lets himself smile. It’s soothing; he can practically hear how purple his outfit is over the phone, and he’s overcome with a wave of affection for this horribly dressed man.

“I’m like, fifteen minutes away. Make sure you’re ready to buzz me in, okay?”

“Okay.” Burr stands unsteadily. 

“Turning onto your street. I’m gonna park and come up, and I’ll rub your back and we can figure this out.”

“Don’t go,” Burr repeats. He’s on his feet now, moving towards the intercom box near the door.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m on your street. I’m looking for parking.”

Burr lets Jefferson talk, struggling to track where his limbs are. He leans against the wall. Idly he reaches out to unlock the door and nearly loses his balance. He slowly comes to the realization that he feels drunk and has no idea why.

“Buzz me in?”

This is followed by a loud angry buzzing from the intercom. It takes Burr a few tries to hit the button but he gets it eventually, and he hums with satisfaction as Jefferson praises him.

“You’re doing good, Aaron. I’m getting in the elevator. I’m hoping it doesn’t cut out.”

There’s crackling, but the call holds. Burr makes soft noises and suddenly the door is open, and Thomas is there, tall and solid and hideously purple, and Burr lets out a sob and drops his phone.

Thomas picks it up and pulls Burr into a tight hug. “Where are Liam and Theo?” he asks.

“Out,” Burr manages.

“Great. I decided you’re my personal assistant and you run errands for me. Name’s already on the company website. You’re listed as working for me since two years ago. That cover enough of a gap?”

“Mmhm,” Burr breathes. He buries his face in Jefferson’s chest.

“So I’m going to get you in the bath and then I’ll call the school, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll handle this for now. You don’t have to worry. Can I text Liam on your phone and tell him I’m with you and that you’re safe?”

“Okay.”

Thomas tries to lead him to his bathroom, but Burr stumbles. After a moment Thomas simply picks him up princess-style and staggers to the bathroom carrying him. Burr allows Thomas to undress him; he leans his forehead against Jefferson, feeling strangely vulnerable, considering how many times he’s been naked in front of him before.

Thomas turns on the bath with one hand and texts Liam with the other. “I just told him I’m here and helping out,” he says, as he holds his fingers under the water. “Warm enough?”

Burr sticks a foot under the spray and nods. He finds himself sitting in the bath, suddenly, and Thomas is pouring bubble bath in, and he closes his eyes.

Then Thomas is speaking again, this time on the phone. Burr pulls himself awake enough to listen.

“I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge. Nope, I don’t care if he’s busy. It’s regarding my employee, one Aaron Burr. I’m most certainly not willing to hold.” There’s a beat of silence before Thomas adds smoothly, “I am aware that there are concerns severe enough to involve the police, and I’d really rather not have to call them first -”

Jefferson smiles with satisfaction. Burr reaches out and squeezes his hand.

“Ah, you’re the man in charge, then? I’m Thomas Jefferson. I run a company called Jefferson Consulting and I just got wind that you’ve been making  _ very  _ serious claims against one of my employees.” There’s the barest hint of a pause, and then Jefferson adds in his no-nonsense snarl, “I actually really don’t care what your reasons are. I would say that I hope you have good reason to cause such upheaval and waste my valuable time, but I  _ know  _ you don’t. Any concerns you have regarding Aaron, I’d like to hear them. No, not right now, you complete doorknob. I’m busy and I don’t have time to waste on you. You can forward them to my assistant. You’ll find his email on my site. His name is Aaron Burr.” Thomas grins, his teeth bared predatorily, and he finishes, “and unless you have very good reason to disturb me I’d rather you not pull this kind of bullshit again.”

“What did he say?” Burr asks, as Thomas tosses his phone carelessly onto the counter.

“Nothing important. Shit, I was going to wash your hair, but I can’t really do that, can I?”

“Could wash my head,” Burr suggests.

“I’ll scrub your stubble.” Thomas laughs, and Burr sinks into the sound, letting it buoy him up.

“I really, really fucking missed you,” Aaron says softly.

“Good reason to keep me around, then,” Thomas says. “I don’t really feel like letting you go again.”

Jefferson’s hands scoop water and pour it over the crown of Burr’s head, and he closes his eyes, humming with pleasure. Soon there’s the rasp of palms against the stubble of his hair; Jefferson is soaping him up, massaging his scalp, and Burr allows himself a soft moan.

“Feel good?”

“Fuck yes,” Burr says.

“I told you I was into pampering. I never got to do this for you.” Finished with Burr’s scalp, Thomas digs his thumbs into the back of his neck and strokes long, slow lines down to his shoulders. “And it shows. Shit, you’re really tense, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that happens when they try and take your daughter away.” Burr laughs but it turns into a strangled sob, and before he knows it he’s crying again.

“Hey, no, you don’t have to cry.” Thomas peppers his cheeks with kisses. “We fixed the problem, it’s gonna be okay, why are you crying?”

Aaron’s breath hitches in his chest. “Cause I missed you so bad and I’m so relieved,” he chokes. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. Liam and I had no idea, and here you are, fixing everything.”

“Yeah, I do that,” Thomas says. “Aaron, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to Theo.”

Burr meets his eyes. “I don’t know anyone besides you that I’d trust enough to do this with,” he says.

Thomas cradles Aaron’s face in his hands. “May I?” he asks softly, and Burr remembers, months ago, the first time Thomas ever asked him that.

“Yes,” he says, and suddenly Thomas’s lips are on his, far more gentle than he would have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos convince me to stop writing for long enough to make myself nachos. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


	9. How proud I am to be yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron looks over. “Looks like you’re exactly where you belong,” he says.

_Oh, one last thing. I don’t know if this is weird, or if it’s something that everyone just assumes happens anyway, or whatever, but I’d really like it if you were getting off too. That’s not an order or anything, just, you know, enjoy yourself._

_Regards,_ _  
_ _Thomas_

 

Burr breaks the kiss first.

“I need you to know that I’m still not quitting my job,” he says. “Before we do anything else.”

“No, I know. It’s something I’m going to have to work on but I think I can do this. And you can tell me the truth, tell me if I’m fucking up,” Thomas says.

“I can tell you the truth?”

“Yes, did I do something wrong?” Thomas sounds vaguely worried.

“Yes,” Burr says. “I fucking hate the way you dress.”

Thomas pulls a face. “Any suggestions for how to change that?”

“Don’t.”

Thomas kisses him again, harder this time, and Burr presses against him. He knows he’s soaking Thomas’s lilac shirt but he can’t get enough.

“So are you going to take me to bed?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Thomas says. He helps Burr out of the bathtub and dries him off, and Burr swears he hears a jingle as they move together.

“Alright, before we get any further, I have to ask -” He touches the collar of Jefferson’s shirt, behind the knot of his tie, and he feels the curve of a D ring, and he groans, “you kinky motherfucker -”

Thomas loosens his tie and pops the top button of his shirt, smiling sheepishly as midnight purple leather is revealed. “It makes me feel secure?” he says.

“So how often are you wearing that thing?”

“Um. Every day?”

Burr kisses the side of his neck, just above where the collar rides. “Clearly I need to get you a couple. I’m thinking at least one in grey.”

Thomas practically purrs.

Aaron lets Thomas run his hands all over his body as he fumbles for his phone and texts Liam. “You’re seriously distracting,” he tells Thomas, and Thomas seems to take that as a challenge because he teases one of Aaron’s nipples as he types.

 

 **Aaron:  
** Can you keep Theo out for a couple hours longer

 **Liam:** **  
** Dude are you getting laid

 **Aaron:  
** Not this immediate second

 **Liam:  
** But you’re going to get laid

 **Aaron:  
** Looks like it

 **Liam:  
** NICE. Remind me to high five you when I get home

 **Liam:  
** I still don’t think the guy is good enough for you but fuck it

 **Liam:  
** Haha

 **Liam:  
** Butt fuck it

 **Liam:  
** Anyway he better be hung

 **Aaron:  
** No comment

 **Liam:  
** OOOOOH GET IT

 **Liam:  
** You have four hours, use em well

 

“Is four hours enough for you to fuck me through the mattress twice?” Aaron asks idly.

Thomas pretends to consider that. “I’m not sure. I mean, _into_ the mattress, yes. _Through_ the mattress - I forgot the jackhammer that I strap to my penis, it’s under my bed, I don’t know what we can cobble together -”

Aaron turns and tugs Thomas’s collar sharply. “Hush. That’s not a question anymore. It’s an order. You’re going to fuck me through the mattress twice.”

Thomas swallows visibly, his eyes huge. “Noted.”

“Get in bed,” Aaron tells him. Thomas is out of the bathroom, shoving the duvet off the bed and throwing himself on the sheets almost before the command is finished, and Aaron follows, taking his time, swaying his hips; he can feel Thomas’s eyes trained on him, wide and hungry. May as well show off.

“When’s the last time you were tested?” he asks as he straddles Jefferson’s hips and unknots his tie.

“Tested?”

“STIs.”

“Uh, maybe two weeks ago?”

Aaron nods appreciatively. “Got the results back?”

“Clean.”

“Good. Me too.” Tie taken care of, Aaron starts to unbutton his shirt. “And I’ve wanted to feel you since the first session. So now -”

“Is this, uh -” Thomas swallows as Burr removes his shirt and palms his chest. “Is this another session, or -”

“No, I do, on occasion, have sex for free.” There’s a ghost of a smile at the edge of Aaron’s lips. “But only with people I actually like.”

“Shit, I should be paying you triple then.” Thomas bucks into Burr’s hands as he unbuckles his belt.

“You’re paying me plenty in favours right now.”

“Yes, but I know your rate is -”

Aaron cuts him off. “Alright, new rule. Neither of us is paying the other, in anything, for sex. We do this because we both want to with no strings attached, no subtext, or we’re not doing it. Okay? We can wait to fuck until both of us want it. Enthusiastic consent.”

“Good deal.”

“Do you want to have sex with me right now?”

“God, _yes,”_ Thomas bursts.

“That was some pretty enthusiastic consent.” Aaron hauls Thomas’s pants down and strips them off his legs, and Thomas is already rock-hard - entirely unsurprising; he seems to always be ready the second Aaron touches him. Aaron slips a finger through the D-ring at the front of the collar and tugs, and his other hand curls around Thomas’s cock. The noise that escapes Jefferson’s lips is _unreal._

Aaron gets his mouth on Thomas, and there’s no taste of latex, no weird tackiness of lube - just Thomas, his skin, his sweat, the bitter tang of his precome, and Aaron can’t help but moan. He sucks firmly on the head and jacks the shaft against his lips; his tongue traces the frenulum, the foreskin, the delicate webbing of veins, the ridge on the underside of his cock. Thomas puts his hand on Aaron’s head, holding him against his cock, and Aaron pulls on the collar again.

“I’m not gonna last long without the condom -” Thomas grunts loudly. “And with you tugging that -”

Aaron pulls off long enough to say, “Good, because I haven’t been able to swallow and I’m going to this time,” and he sinks his mouth back down on Thomas’s cock, taking it as deep as he can. He works his tongue against it and Thomas grunts, his stomach and thighs clench, and then he’s coming, and Aaron can _finally_ taste it. He doesn’t know what he would have expected but there’s sweetness there he wasn’t anticipating. His eyes meet Jefferson’s and he holds the gaze as he swallows.

“Aaron, holy fuck,” Thomas breathes. Aaron straddles him, his ass against Jefferson’s softening cock, and then flops on his chest. He feels arms wrap around him and he nuzzles against the collar. “Please explain to me why that was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

“Because I got to mean every second of it, and also because the moment you’re ready to go again I’m tying you up and riding you,” Aaron says matter-of-factly.

“Curse you, refractory period! Wake up, penis!” Thomas kicks his feet against the mattress. “We have things to do! No napping!”

“You act like you don’t want me to tease you back up,” Aaron says as he drags his lips against Thomas’s throat. He turns slightly and sucks a dark bruise into the skin just above where the collar rests, and Thomas quiets, the only sound escaping his lips soft huffs of pleasure.

Aaron takes his time now; there’s no rush, neither of them are going anywhere. He abandons the sensitive skin of Thomas’s throat to suck one earlobe into his mouth and tease it with his teeth, then kisses his lips. He trails kisses down Thomas’s throat, takes the ring of the collar in his teeth and tugs it, sucks another bruise into his jugular notch (and Thomas moans wantonly at that, legs tensing, and Burr makes note of that for later), bites at the hard muscle of his pectorals.

“You know, you’re allowed to touch me,” Aaron murmurs.

Thomas immediately strokes his hands down Aaron’s back and cups the curve of his ass. His fingers work the muscle and spread him; Thomas traces one finger along the cleft and rubs against Burr’s hole. His fingers are dry and Aaron shifts slightly.

“Wait,” he tells Thomas. Thomas makes a nasal whining noise so Burr smacks his stomach gently with his palm. “Wait,” he says again, more insistently this time. “Stay. Be a good boy.”

Thomas drops his hands to his sides and pouts.

Burr opens the locked cabinet in his closet and shuffles through. He tosses lube and two toys onto the bed, then hauls out a full set of cuffs.

“Black,” he says as he climbs back into bed and shows them to Jefferson, “but it’ll have to do until we get a chance to open yours.”

“I opened them,” Thomas admits. His eyes are fixed firmly on the leather cuffs in Aaron’s hands.

“Oh? Did you use them?” There’s a flicker of jealousy in Aaron’s chest but he can release that easily; the more important thing is the curiosity.

“Not, you know, with anyone. I just put them all on, with the collar, and I -” Thomas cuts himself off.

Aaron kisses his stomach. “Go on.”

“Um. I went to look at myself, in the mirror, you know, and there was so much leather - and I thought about you, that one time, and all the leather you were wearing, and how it would feel to have you tie me down, and I -” Thomas stops again and makes a jacking off motion with one hand.

“Was it good?” Aaron asks warmly.

“Not as good as when you do it for me,” Thomas admits. “But for doing it alone - _God,_ yeah, it was good.”

“You’re going to _love_ this, then.” Aaron buckles cuffs onto Thomas’s wrists and fits a finger between them and the skin, asking, “loose enough?”

“Not tight enough,” Thomas insists.

“Hush. We’re doing this safely.” He cuffs each ankle as well and then rummages around between his mattress and box spring. His fingers meet straps, one at each corner of the bed; he pulls them out and shows them to Thomas. “I want to restrain you. Are you ready for this?”

“God, yes.”

“Green means everything feels great, yellow means stop the activity I’m doing but keep going in general, red means stop everything and I untie you and no more sex happens. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Test it out. How are you feeling now?”

“Green,” Thomas barks.

Aaron clips one of the straps to Thomas’s ankle. “Now?”

“Green -”

He attaches the other ankle strap, then tightens them so Thomas’s legs are pulled taut against the bed. Slowly he slinks up along Thomas’s body, pausing to suck, just for a moment, on each nipple, and then straps his wrists down too.

“And now?”

“I’m so fucking green right now, Aaron, sweet Jesus,” Thomas groans, and Aaron can see how hard he is. His cock lays against his abdomen, leaking precome and twitching with his pulse. Aaron pulls the straps at his wrists taut; Thomas is spread eagle, vulnerable, and he has maybe an inch of wiggle room.

“I’m being awful to you, aren’t I? You’re being such a good boy and I’m not touching you at all,” Aaron murmurs against his ear.

“Yes, I’m being so good. Please,” Thomas says.

“And I’m not going to touch you.”

Thomas groans and pulls against the wrist restraints. The struggle, if anything, just seems to get him harder.

“Aaron -”

“Aaron?”

Thomas whimpers. “Sir, please -”

“Better. Tell me how you touched yourself.” Aaron sits on Jefferson’s hips and wraps a hand around his own cock. “And if you do a good job telling me, maybe I’ll let you watch me fuck myself.”

The moment Thomas opens his mouth, Aaron is suddenly and bizarrely reminded of how it feels to turn a tap on full while the hose attached to it is folded - the pressure buildup behind the kink, and the instant of release when water explodes out. “I saw myself wearing all this leather, and I knew you’d picked it out for me, and I strapped it on tight - and I thought about you tying me to the bed, and how maybe I’d fight back a little, just a little, and then let you tie me down and tell me I wasn’t being a good boy for you -”

“Active imagination,” Aaron encourages. He picks up the smaller of the toys on the bed, a slim probe, and slicks it with lube while Jefferson watches. “Keep going.”

“And I thought how _good_ it would feel to be helpless, and count entirely on you for every touch. I thought about how I wouldn’t be able to do anything but lay there and feel you touch me. And then I touched my cock, and I thought about the way you used to lick it, and thought, um -” He averts his eyes for a moment.

Aaron reaches behind himself and slips the tip of the probe into his ass. He lets out a theatrical moan, sliding it deeper, and prompts, “and you thought?”

“I thought about you just, you know, licking the slit - right at the tip, and maybe, you know, how it would feel to come in your mouth, or on your face. How you’d look covered in it. If you’d like the taste - how it would feel if you sucked me clean -”

The toy bottoms out. Aaron thrusts it in and out until there’s no hint of a stretch; his ass takes it easily. “Hold this,” he says, pulling it out and laying it on Thomas’s chest. He notices Jefferson’s arm jerk against the restraint, a failed attempt at grabbing the toy, and he smiles with satisfaction. Aaron lubes up the second toy, which is slightly larger than the first, and adds, “and then what?”

“And I started jacking it, but I just kept rubbing my thumb over the tip, right on the slit, and imagined it was your tongue. Just imagined you licking me there, and I noticed just how much pre I was dripping, and uh - fuck, I tasted it.”

Aaron slides the bigger toy in and moans and this one isn’t show; it’s all genuine, the thought of Thomas tasting himself making him clench hard on the toy. “How did you taste?”

“Salty?” Thomas grins sheepishly. “Wasn’t bad. Wouldn’t mind tasting yours.”

“Want to taste now?”

“Please -”

So Aaron pushes the second toy in to the base, clenching around it where it gets narrower behind a flare, and slinks up Jefferson’s body. He tucks his knees either side of Thomas’s chest, under his armpits, and rubs his cock against the full lips. Thomas moans and Aaron takes advantage of the opportunity to push the head of his cock between those lips; he feels the wet pressure of Thomas’s tongue and he grunts.

Thomas seems to have absolutely no idea how to suck a dick. Aaron fists a hand in his hair and says, “lick the tip, Thomas. Taste it like you wanted.”

Thomas licks the tip and groans. “Good boy,” Aaron tells him. “Suck it a little.” He draws a breath in through his teeth, a sibilant hiss as Thomas obeys, and adds, “is this your first time sucking dick?”

“Mmhm,” Thomas hums, sucking desperately.

“You’re doing such a good job for your first time. My good boy. You like the way I taste?”

Thomas hums again, and this time it turns into a whine.

“I have one more thing to show you,” Aaron tells him. “Are you going to be good for me?”

He pulls his cock out of Thomas’s mouth and Thomas starts talking immediately. “Yes, look how good I’m being. Please show me.”

Aaron moves back until he’s kneeling over Jefferson’s hips again. He slides the toy in his ass out and picks up the other from where it still rests on Jefferson’s chest. Holding the tips together, he waits until Thomas is watching and then slips them both in.

“Jesus, Aaron,” Thomas grunts. Aaron bears back against them; the stretch is painful but if he goes slow it eases, and soon he’s working the toys in and out, a little deeper each time. The silicone of the toys is slick and there’s no drag over his prostate, just a smooth flow in and out. He opens his mouth and moans, and Thomas moans back, rolling his hips.

“Are you jealous of these?” Aaron asks. “You wish these were your dick?”

“Yes,” Thomas breathes.

“That really sucks,” Aaron says. He works the toys deeper, grinding against the stretch.

“Please, please, let me fuck you,” Thomas begs.

“Do you really think you can do any fucking tied down like that? You can’t even move your hands. Everything we do is up to me, Thomas, and all you can do is ask nicely.” With one last push Aaron fits both toys all the way in and he shudders, adding, “although I have to say, I’d much rather feel you in me than toys. Think you can do a good job of fucking me?”

“Yes -”

“If I give you a chance will you make me come?”

“Yes -”

“Don’t disappoint me,” Aaron tells him. He pulls the toys out, tosses them on the floor, and settles against Thomas’s cock. He lets Thomas grind against him; every so often he feels the head of that massive cock brushing over his hole, which feels sloppy and open, wet with lube, and the feeling is a horrible tease. Aaron loses his patience and reaches back to slide the head in and sinks down slowly until he’s sitting on Jefferson’s hips, entirely full of his cock.

“Fuck, Aaron,” Thomas huffs. “Are you just going to sit there?”

“Manners,” Aaron says lightly, landing another swat on Thomas’s stomach with the back of his hand. He overstretched; Thomas isn’t quite as big as both the slim toys put together, but that means that when he starts to thrust, grinding his hips back and forth, the fucking isn’t painful. He can close his eyes and just feel that cock sliding in and out, rubbing over his prostate. Aaron feels a tingling in his spine, building near his tailbone.

“Aaron, I’m getting close -”

“Hush,” Aaron says.

“No, really, I’m not gonna last much longer, I’m going to come,” Thomas says.

“Hush,” Aaron repeats. He speeds up, fucking himself hard and fast on Jefferson’s cock.

“Are you going to touch yourself or -”

“Shut up, Thomas, I’m concentrating -”

The pressure builds and there’s a squeeze somewhere inside his body and for a second, everything seems suspended. Aaron stops moving; his hands are flat on Thomas’s chest, and then the pressure breaks and he sits down, hard, bottoming out again, and he’s coming in thick waves on Jefferson’s stomach.

Thomas jerks his hips against Aaron a few times and makes a strangled noise as he comes, and the pulse of heat breaks Aaron. He leans forward with a groan and settles his forehead against Thomas, his lips leaving lazy, sloppy kisses on his chest.

“Can you undo me? Just my wrists,” Thomas says, and Burr reaches up, fumbles with the quick release until he feels the tension break, and he’s wrapped, suddenly, in Thomas’s arms. He feels like a burrito.

Thomas kisses his forehead and squeezes him. Their breathing is rapid and hitching; Aaron’s slows first, and Thomas is still panting a little as he heaves a deep sigh and says, “are your legs alright still strapped down?”

“For a couple more minutes, yeah,” Thomas tells him.

“Okay. Don’t let me fall asleep,” Aaron says.

“You got it,” is the last thing he hears before he drifts off.

 

Aaron is woken up by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he says groggily, and as the door opens he goes, “wait, shit -”

Liam peeks through the gap as he inches open the door, then hurries through and slams it shut. “Okay, good thing it was _me_ that knocked, Jesus, Aaron -”

“Oh, hey,” Thomas says. His voice is thick with sleep. “Look, you’re a nice guy but I’m not really into threesomes, so -”

“You are _not_ good at jokes when you’re sleepy.” Aaron notices that all four cuffs are on the floor, unclipped from the under-bed restraints. Thomas is spooning him and from the jingle he hears when he stretches his shoulders, the collar is still firmly in place.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re home and tonight is movie night, according to Theo. I told her Purple Thomas was here so she wants him to help pick the movie. But it looks like both of you need to go to church before you go out into the living room so I’ll take her to the store for ice cream. That buys you a bit of time. I picked up a fuckload of pizza, Theo has had way too much root beer, take a shower and open a window, it smells like sex in here.” Liam grimaces. “Aaron, I don’t need to see your dick. Like, thank you, it’s very pretty, but next time make sure you’re under a blanket or something. Please.”

“You don’t have to look,” Aaron tells him.

“That is false information. I’m like, magnetically attracted to dick. Anything that even _looks_ like dick has power over me. I once touched a banana and I was overcome. Take a goddamn shower and pick your dildos up off the floor, we _just_ had the carpet cleaned,” Liam complains.

“Love you too,” Aaron tells him. Liam rolls his eyes and leaves.

Aaron has never been more thankful for his ensuite bathroom. He and Thomas shower quickly, but as they soap each other up he can’t help but give Jefferson’s cock a couple tugs and before long Thomas is hard again and thrusting into his hand, and he can’t leave the poor man like that so he has to get him off. Thomas comes and sprays the shower curtain with his load and then they have to take a few minutes to clean it off; and then it turns out that Thomas’s hair takes a million years to dry, so he towels it dejectedly while Aaron shakes the excess water off his shorn head and focuses on rubbing body butter into the rough patches on his elbows.

“That just isn’t fair,” Thomas complains.

“I have my clippers if you’d like a haircut,” Aaron offers. Thomas hurriedly declines.

So all in all it takes a good half hour before either of them are halfway presentable. They manage to hide all of the evidence of their shenanigans and get into a respectable position on the living room couch before Theo and Liam get home again, bearing three pints of ice cream and looking very pleased with themselves.

“We used your credit card,” Theo announces to Aaron.

“Great. Theo is clearly the _worst_ accomplice to a crime,” Liam complains. “Now he knows.”

“Ice cream is a good reason to steal Dad’s credit card,” is Thomas’s input.

“Why are there three cartons? We don’t get one each?”

“None for Purple Thomas,” Liam tells Burr. Thomas pulls a massive pout. Theo, bless her sweet little heart, fetches a final carton from the hallway, grinning ear to ear.

She perches on the couch beside Thomas and offers it to him. “Tricked you,” she says triumphantly. “I didn’t know what kind you like so I got chocolate fudge brownie, cause everyone likes chocolate.”

“You’re now my favourite Burr,” Thomas tells her.

Theo sticks her tongue out at Aaron.

Ice cream safely in the freezer, Theo and Thomas take it upon themselves to recreate the pillow nest in the living room. Thomas is very careful to be the one commandeering Aaron’s duvet; he closes Aaron’s bedroom door behind him when he emerges.

Theo and Thomas bicker about watching Tangled again. Thomas maintains he needs to rewatch it so he can properly critique the narrative; Theo makes a solid point when she argues that he’s being a baby and watching a different movie won’t kill him.

Liam takes the opportunity to pop Alpha and Omega into the DVD player, and Theo and Aaron groan in protest.

“This is the worst movie ever made,” Aaron says.

“They don’t even know how wolf packs work!” crows Theo, the resident animal expert.

“You’re gonna love this,” Liam tells Thomas. “It’s absolute shit. The worst movie you’ll ever see. Boy meets girl, they’re secretly in love, everyone is a wolf.”

“That sounds horrendous,” Thomas says with delight.

Pizza makes an appearance and the four of them pile together, Theo pointedly sitting between Thomas and Aaron. Her move was well calculated; once Thomas is done his pizza he allows Theo to sit in his lap and runs his fingers through her hair, detangling it carefully.

Aaron looks over. “Looks like you’re exactly where you belong,” he says.

Thomas grins. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Guess I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are my means to go on. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com).


	10. Make you never wanna leave - and I won't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bits and pieces come together.

_ Hey, _

_ I know I  _ just  _ sent that last email, but one more thing before I forget - _

 

Burr sits Thomas down for a long talk about boundaries. He drags words out of Thomas, words of uncertainty and doubt that he knew were there but Thomas didn’t want to admit to.

“I guess,” Thomas tells him, “I’m just nervous that you’ll find someone who’s better at it than me, and then sex with me won’t be, you know, as important.”

“You drink wine on the job, right?” Burr asks

“Well, yeah. Kind of weird if I’m consulting for liquor licenses and not drinking.”

“Does that cheapen the glass of wine you have at home at the end of the day?”

“No,” Thomas says. And he smiles slowly.

“So if I’m out doing a job, it’s not really me there. You know that better than anyone else. It’s Jamie doing that work, and I’m not focusing on how it feels for me - it’s about the client. And then I come home to you and I’m Aaron, and that’s when the sex really means something,” Aaron tells him. “Because I care about you. I feel very deeply for you, and I want to be in a committed relationship with you and only you.”

Thomas absorbs this. “Okay, but can we be monogamous outside of that? You know, keep doing your job, but if it’s not work -”

“Yes, absolutely. If it’s not work you’re the only one I’m having sex with,” Aaron agrees.

 

The jealousy doesn’t disappear overnight, but Aaron teaches Thomas mindfulness, his favourite way to observe and release painful emotions. He sits down with Thomas and talks out the jealousy. They find ways to work around it, and one day Aaron meets Thomas for dinner after a session and says, “you would not  _ believe _ how much dick I’ve sucked today,” and Thomas just laughs, without a hint of resentment in his smile.

 

Aaron and Liam withdraw Theo from school with a month left in the term. They arrange for her to do her final tests at school but insist they’ll homeschool her until the year is out, and then transfer her for the upcoming year.

Theo comes home on her last day with a huge smile on her face. “I told Vanessa Curtis I get a  _ whole extra month _ of summer vacation,” she says.

“Yeah you do. That’s cause you aren’t a nasty little brat,” Liam says. Aaron is too busy enjoying Theo’s happiness to call him out on being rude.

 

Theo’s teacher does end up calling CPS, but Aaron and Liam are well prepared. Aaron gathers character references and a glowing letter from Thomas about his stellar performance at work. Thomas arranges some help; he calls in a few favours and comes over one night with a bundle of papers.

“I got some friends of mine to write character references too,” he says. “Some folks who wrote that they’ve seen you hard at work at my office. And this one guy I know in the government - which, you know, will give you a lot of pull - he’s, like, the tax police, but damn if he can’t write a good letter.” And he puts a sheaf of papers, easily twenty pages, in front of Burr. It’s a single letter.

“How much did you tell this guy?” Aaron asks, looking through the letter. It’s an absolutely amazing piece of work, heartfelt and genuine, and he catches sight of the phrase  _ an exemplary example of parenthood, one from whom we can all take inspiration, _ and he tears up a little.

“Man, I told him like, two things. I said that Theo is eleven and you take her to the zoo every month, and he just went the fuck off,” Thomas tells him. “Hamilton is a solid guy. You don’t wanna know what I had to do to get that, though.”

The day that the caseworker arrives, Thomas makes sure to be at the apartment. The worker, a soft-spoken woman who introduces herself simply as Moira, takes the time to inspect the home and interview Aaron, Liam, and Theo separately. When she sits down with Burr, she reassures him that she isn’t there to cause any trouble.

“I know that’s very alarming to be investigated,” she says. Her voice is gentle and slow. “But really all I’m here to do is make sure that Theodosia is happy. So I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Go ahead,” Aaron says. He keeps his face blank but open.

“The teacher at Theodosia’s school, Lorna Wilson, made claims of immoral and illegal behavior taking place in this home. I can’t really speak to the morality piece - either behavior is harming the child, or it isn’t. Are you dealing any drugs or sex out of the home?”

“No,” Aaron says. That’s something he can say truthfully; he’s never done an in-call.

“Are Theodosia’s basic needs being met? Food, clothing, medical care, emotional support?”

“Absolutely. Once you get a chance to talk to her, you’ll notice how well she’s doing. She speaks very openly and honestly about her feelings, and we make a point of encouraging her to express her emotions.”

“Alright. I understand you have letters of reference?”

Aaron produces the stack of letter he’s collected. “A lot of them, yes. I have copies of everything so you can keep these.”

Moira flips through them and smiles. “Well, you absolutely have a lot of support, I can see that. We usually ask for one or two letters -” She notices the thick stack Hamilton produced, and chuckles. “Very emphatic support, I must say.”

Theo asks to bring Purple Thomas with her for her one-on-one interview as emotional support. The experience seems to be very upsetting for her; afterwards she draws her feelings out fiercely, producing numerous drawings of a small figure locked away in various inaccessible locations.

Two nerve-wracking weeks pass before they receive notice that the case has been closed and that Theodosia seems to be doing very well where she is. Thomas orders an absolutely ridiculous amount of delivery sushi in celebration and spends the evening Theo how to use chopsticks without flinging rice across the room.

 

Liam and Aaron debate opening a suit against Theo’s school.

They drop hints that that’s what they’re planning to do, and within a week heartfelt apology letters arrive from every single one of the children who tormented Theo. She sits among the litter of papers on the floor and basks like a queen.

“This feels good,” she tells Aaron and Liam. “I bet all of them feel really guilty that they were so awful to me.”

“I bet they do,” Liam agrees.

It’s the best lesson Theo could have gotten - that shitty behavior doesn’t go unpunished, that happy endings are real, that people are held accountable for their actions. Even if that doesn’t always hold true, it’s a satisfying resolution for an eleven-year-old.

 

Thomas keeps inviting Aaron out for dinner and Aaron keeps putting it off. Finally he responds to one invitation with, “look, Thomas, you act like a complete ass when we’re out for dinner.”

“I do not,” Thomas protests.

“Yes, yes you do,” Aaron insists. “Look, next time we go out, I’ll call you out on it every time you’re acting like a piece of shit.”

He does, and he goes a step further - he marks each moment down on a tally. By the end of the night he has well over two dozen marks and a very embarrassed Thomas.

“I don’t really realize I’m doing it,” he admits. “I guess I need to be -”

“The centre of attention,” Aaron finishes for him.

Thomas grins sheepishly. “Maybe I should work on that.”

“Good thing I’m very difficult to get rid of,” Aaron says. “Somehow, despite you being a total jackass, I love you anyway.”

“Shit, I guess I need to try harder to drive you off.”

“Please, please don’t. Let’s just work on making you a somewhat decent human being, okay?”

“Okay,” Thomas says.

 

Aaron and Thomas talk about losing their wives. Aaron has had a decade to adjust to losing Theodosia, the first great love of his life; Thomas has only had a couple of years without Martha, and he’s still taking it hard. He admits one night that he wonders if he’s being unfaithful.

“It was illness, and it was slow. I took time off and I was with her up until she passed. She made me promise I’d never marry another woman,” Thomas says.

“Well, I’m not a woman,” Aaron replies.

Thomas makes a face. “I know what she meant, though, Aaron, and I know you do too. She didn’t want me to be unfaithful.”

“I don’t think this is unfaithfulness. You have every right to live your life to the fullest, and people say things when they’re scared that they don’t necessarily mean. She knew she had so little time left; you have decades ahead of you, Thomas, and you don’t have to spend it alone.” 

“Still - I feel like I’m forgetting her.”

Aaron puts his hands on his hips, resting them where his tattoos are. “You’ve seen the tattoos I have here.”

“Yeah?”

“I got them for my wife,” Aaron says. “I called her kitten, so I thought - kitten paws. That way I don’t ever forget. What if you get a tattoo for Martha?”

So one day Aaron takes Thomas to the same artist who did his pawprints, and he pays for Thomas to have the letter M tattooed on the inside of one elbow, just over the basilic vein, where an IV would rest.

That night he rubs unscented lotion into the tattoo. Thomas cries against his shoulder.

 

Thomas seems to be allergic to talking about feelings, but Aaron keeps working. They don’t make much progress until Aaron tells him, “you’re invited for dinner with me and Liam and Theo from now on, and we talk about our feelings every night, and this is actually not an invitation, it’s a demand.”

Thomas laughs it off. “Okay. I think I can handle feelings time with a child.”

Thomas cannot handle feelings time with a child. Theo sets an incredible example by talking about her frustrating time trying to adjust to the idea of starting at yet another new school. “I know it’s still a long time away, but I just changed to go to that middle school,” she says. “I feel scared, because I don’t know if the kids will be nice to me. And I feel sad because I didn’t have a good time at my old school. And sometimes I feel angry that I had to leave that school, and angry that when I asked for help, my teacher didn’t help me.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Aaron tells her. “I hear that it feels unfair. I understand that you feel scared and sad and angry.”

Thomas looks completely lost and a little bit terrified.

Then it’s his turn. “I feel - nervous?” he says, looking to Theo as if checking to make sure he has the right answer. She nods encouragingly, and he continues, “I’ve never talked about my feelings like this before. I feel, uh, kinda silly talking about it like this. And I feel weird having to explain what I’m feeling.”

“It’s okay to feel silly,” Theo tells him. “I used to feel silly about it too but it feels really good when you get it out.”

Thomas grins. “You’re right. I feel a little bit more relaxed already.”

Thomas doesn’t miss a single dinner from then on.

 

One day Thomas comes over to find Liam and Theo making friendship bracelets on the living room floor.

“I made you one,” Theo says, brandishing a knotted mass of yellow and purple thread. Thomas allows her to knot it securely onto his wrist.

“I love it,” he says, his voice rich with sincerity.

“I made you one too,” Liam says, and he ties a gorgeous purple bracelet on Thomas’s wrist next to Theo’s.

Thomas doesn’t even pretend he isn’t tearing up.

 

One morning Aaron wakes up in Thomas’s bed to find his boyfriend staring at him.

“What’s up?” he asks sleepily.

“Just wondering what it would be like if we woke up like this every morning.”

“Well, that would be nice, but I have to spend some nights in the same home as my daughter.”

“No, I know,” Thomas says. “I mean - if she was here too. And Liam. Like a family.”

Aaron kisses his lips. “I’m not saying yes right now,” he says, “but I’m also not saying no. Let’s see how it goes.”

Thomas smiles. “That makes me feel hopeful,” he says.

 

_ \- thank you for everything. Here’s to the future.  _ _  
_ _ TJ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the entirety of thomas's emails in one place: 
> 
> _Jamie:_  
>  As per our discussion here is a short list of things that interest me. If you want me to expand on any of these just ask. Also not all of this is entirely tested - just intriguing. Let’s experiment!  
> 1\. Talking. I like it. A lot.  
> 2\. Feeling like a priority, feeling like I’m the most important person in the room, is a huge thing for me. I guess I can be a bit of a show off.  
> 3\. Outfits. Pretty much anything you can think of but especially leather.  
> 4\. Collars? Maybe? This is one I don’t know much about.  
> 5\. Pampering. I’d say let me wash your hair but that’s … gonna be … an issue.  
> 6\. Maybe restraints. But super light. This one can be easy to overdo. Maybe once we get to know each other first.  
> I guess that’s all there is to my kink list? Maybe we’ll figure out more stuff along the way! Who knows.  
> Oh, one last thing. I don’t know if this is weird, or if it’s something that everyone just assumes happens anyway, or whatever, but I’d really like it if you were getting off too. That’s not an order or anything, just, you know, enjoy yourself.  
> Regards,  
> Thomas
> 
> _Hey,_  
>  I know I just sent that last email, but one more thing before I forget - thank you for everything. Here’s to the future.  
> TJ  
> 
> thank you for riding this out! that was a wild week of updates. as always, comments and kudos pump nutrition directly into my veins so that i don't have to ever leave my computer and therefore don't stop typing. chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com), and one final thank you to [bean](http://beansterpie.tumblr.com). thank you also to my [datemate](http://princettemango.tumblr.com) and my boyfriend (who hates the internet and is a huge gross nerd).


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